Heaven's So Far Away
by megsamadhi
Summary: He could feel her fingers softly tracing the Mark on his arm. He hated that she was touching him there. He wanted to be more to her than that decision had made of him. He wanted more choices than it had allowed him. He wanted her. Draco/Hermione.
1. Raw Anger

**A/N: Thank you for reading! This story begins _during_ the final battle, and acts as a continuation of Book 7 (without the epilogue, of course :) Despite this first chapter, I assure you, it is a very sweet love story. Please review!**

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**_"There are much older and stronger forces at work in the world than a Dark Lord, Harry Potter.  
There is an unsleeping power too raw to be enslaved by a single cause.  
Magic itself is as deep and as old as the earth, and so, tied to it."_**

**_-__Firenze_**_**, Hogwarts Professor of Divination**_

The earth was angry, it seemed. _Magic_ was angry. It was very rare anymore for human creatures to see raw magic. Earth magic is what it was called in the dusty tomes now strewn across the Hogwart's library. Shredded pages rustled amongst the broken glass… the broken furniture… the broken bodies that lay there, oblivious to the screaming.

It had begun subtly enough – with rain. As the battle raged throughout the school and the grounds, it had begun to rain. Hexes were dodged; curses deflected into the sodden ground beneath students and Death Eaters alike. Horrible curses from the Elder Wand and others had rent open the earth as the Dark Lord and his minions carved through the mass of human resistance. The earth suffered its wounds and slowly reabsorbed the magic of the dead.

Unnoticed by those fighting and dying, a storm had come down upon them. The sky was unnaturally black, and the torrential rain was whipped about carelessly by the strong winds.

There was something strange happening in the Forbidden Forest and in the Lake – the creatures within were stirred suddenly in a way they could not describe. The Earth had been scarred and torn in ways that seemed impossible to repair and it was reacting. The most direct way to stop the damage being done was to remove those inflicting it. And so the creatures' minds and hearts were turned against the humans destroying each other and the world around themselves.

A great cry arose from within the school – A cry of triumph and relief – for a single boy had just defeated one of humanity's great foes. For precious minutes loved ones were held close and comforted one another. Professor McGonagall, however, had never been one to linger over either happy moments or sad, and quickly took stock of their surroundings.

Night was surely closing in by now and the abnormally violent storm outside was growing stronger. The high winds blowing through the broken panes had made even the joyous scene seem chaotic, and thunder had long ago begun to sound like enormous boulders splitting and crumbling around them. She had seen the weather affected by magic before, of course – on a microscopic scale. If her instincts were correct about this storm, they needed to leave. Now. Her very presence demanding order, McGonagall shouted above the winds, her 'sonorus' sounding eerily like the earlier broadcasts of Voldemort. The nearly 100 survivors finally took in the ferocity of the storm, and began moving at a panicked run toward the Room of Requirement and, it seemed the only safe way out of Hogwarts.

As the magic of Voldemort was reabsorbed into the Earth, a spine-chilling sound rose up and filled the air around them. It was a chorus of screeching and wailing, of snarling and shouting. From among the group of survivors, a horrible, strangled scream emerged from Firenze and he fell to the ground. His muscular legs began to kick out in all directions and his hooves scraped menacingly against the stone. His face twisted desperately toward McGonagall.

"They…are coming!" he ground out as he panted, fighting to control his thrashing movements and failing.

"All the beasts… coming!" he gasped for air "… will kill you if they can!"

After this last bit, he became still, breathing deeply. He seemed to master himself and rose upon his sturdy legs. But his face was all wrong. It was frightening. His eyes gleamed and he smiled maliciously as he began slow, deliberate paces toward the wary survivors. In a barely audible growl he addressed them.

"_We'll _kill you if we can."

...

That death too, was hard on Harry, but then he should have been accustomed to death by now. Firenze had saved him once from the cloaked shadow that stalked him in the Forbidden Forest. Now he lay twisted and broken upon the floor. He should have died as a friend fighting by his side. No… he should have lived. But now _they _were coming and this was no time to entertain memories of the dead.

It felt like suffocation. Too close together to breathe, but too scared to back out of the crush of flesh and sweat pressing desperately toward a single, small portrait hole. The shrieking of the creatures closing in on them was becoming louder.

Draco Malfoy, despite his panic, stood away from the crowd beside McGonagall and Potter, somehow frantically confident that the old woman could provide a solution for their escape. He had only ever seen determination on her face. Now he beheld fear.

He heard her whisper to herself.

"We cannot get out…. too fast… it's just too fast… we'll die here."

The last line was said with such certainty that he looked to Potter, whose eyes darted to the screaming crowd.

Weasley was a blur as he ran past Draco with a face full of terror and latched onto Potter's arm, trying to pull him away from the mob.

"Go! We've got to get out of here – this is where they'll come!"

Draco watched Potter fight him off, still searching for something as Weasley left him.

Potter was beginning to look frantic.

"Ginny!" he shouted.

Malfoys, above all things, were survivors. And so when Draco sprung toward the head of shining red hair, he told himself that with McGonagall overcome, Potter was his escape plan. If Potter wouldn't leave without the girl, he needed to get her to him now. Shoving roughly through the crowd, he reached an arm around her waist, pausing only half a second before he snaked his other arm around the bushy-haired brunette crushed in beside her. Bending his knees, he hurtled himself backwards with all his might and landed badly, both of the girls tumbling down upon him. Potter wouldn't have left without her either, Draco reasoned. That's why he'd grabbed her too. But a part of him wasn't sure Potter would have stayed.

Harry rushed forward and took a dazed Ginny into his arms, while offering a hand up to Hermione. He looked past them to where Malfoy had struggled to his feet and gave the would-be rescuer a shocked stare.

"We're even, Potter. Now get us out of here."

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**_More Chapters Soon - Just Going Through Beta :)_**


	2. Survival of the Fittest

**A/N: Nothing belongs to me - all credit to J.K. Rowling. Thanks for Reading!!**

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**Chapter 2**

**Survival of the Fittest**

"Where are you taking us?!" A near-hysterical Ginny demanded as she was pulled down a hallway toward a set of stairs.

"I've got an idea," Harry responded. "But I don't want people following us." He looked uncomfortable. "We would be swamped – we can only save ourselves."

_Leave it to the Hero to try to justify saving his own life to himself_, thought Draco.

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked, jogging up next to him.

"I don't know," Harry said darkly.

"Your little boyfriend was too fucking scared to wait," Draco spat.

"He didn't even go for his own flesh and blood," he said looking ahead of him at Ginny.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Hermione shouted in a hurt voice, "Why are you even following us?!"

"I'm not stupid, Granger. We weren't all going to make it through that portrait hole and Potter here seems to know another way out."

"Well I don't!" Potter said in frustration, stopping in a dark alcove.

"Then what's the fucking brilliant idea you had?" He asked angrily. That they could hear the stamping of the creatures' feet meant they were certainly inside the castle, or nearly there.

"Kreacher!" Harry called out, looking viciously back at Draco.

A faint pop was heard before a cowering house elf appeared before Harry.

"Master?"

"Kreacher, I need you to apparate us out of here. Take us to the Burrow. Start with Ginny. You can…"

"Kreacher is sorry Master. Kreacher has tried. Kreacher cannot even apparate to the grounds. Only in the castle. Something is blocking the house elves."

Suddenly from behind them came screaming. Blaise Zabini, Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom and Terry Boot were running frantically up the stairs pursued by at least a dozen beasts of all kinds.

"Shit! Then apparate us somewhere safe! Now!"

Just as Harry had barked 'now' the elf disappeared with Ginny and the group began to run up flights of stairs, trying to get to higher ground away form the flood of creatures trying to kill them. After another 'pop' Hermione was gone. Looking behind him, Draco could see three centaurs bearing down on them. The entire group visibly cringed when they heard agonized screaming coming from the direction they had left minutes before. People were dying. There was nothing they could do. Lavender's rescue came next, leaving the five boys running for their lives.

"Harry! Help!"

It was Neville. He was certainly the slowest of the group and was dangerously close to being trampled by the beasts. Not far behind the centaurs were two thestrals, their movements surprisingly nimble. These, the fastest of the beasts, blocked the view of countless others that followed in their wake… spiders, manticores, nundus, griffins, erlkings, red caps, trolls, owls... all of them united in their purpose.

"Impedimenta!"

"Stupefy!"

"Levicorpus!"

There was a terrible danger of hitting the boys behind him, but without stopping to turn around, it was all Harry could do. Another 'pop' effectively silenced Neville's cries for help.

"They aren't even slowing down!" Terry Boot exclaimed. "They're not even tired!"

It was the first chance Draco had to recognize the burning in his lungs and the fatigue quickly overcoming his legs. But hallways inevitably ended in stairwells and down meant more of _them_. So they went up. And up.

After the 'pop' that signified Terry's rescue, relief began to wash over Draco. _Just a minute longer_, he thought to himself. _I'll be next – no more running_. And it was with only a few feet separating him from his pursuers. _Soon_, he encouraged himself, _just keep running – it's just a little farther_.

'Pop.' But he was still running.

"Fuck!" That bloody house elf had taken Potter! Suddenly a single thought came crashing down upon him. What if he didn't come back? What if Potter told him not to come back?? It was bad business, wasn't it? Bringing a Death Eater into whatever safe place was left in Hogwarts. He felt sick. After everything – after surviving sixth year, after being tortured by Voldemort for his failure, after his father's displeasure and his mother's fear, after the final battle, for Christ's sake, and keeping both sides from killing him – he was going to die. He could see his mother's face – hear her voice telling him to keep safe at all costs.

"_Someone will win this war, Draco," _she had whispered to him before he left for school. "_And someone will lose. Always be careful, my son. Make sure you will be taken in no matter who succeeds."_

He knew he couldn't run much longer, and Boot was right. _They _weren't getting tired. He was closing in on the end of another hallway and that would mean stairs. He just couldn't do it. He felt the breath of an angry thestral upon his shoulder and closed his eyes before blacking out.

……………………………………………………………………….

"_I am sorry, my love, if I am not here when this war is over."_

"_Mother don't be foolish,"_ he remembered saying harshly. He wanted her to stop talking about this.

"_When can I tell you these things if not now?" _Her voice sounded so sad – so resigned. The manor had long been a headquarters for Voldemort, and the Malfoys had become increasingly _unnecessary_. When her husband's wand was taken by the Dark Lord, she had begun to put their affairs in order for Draco, fearing that she and Lucius would soon become _martyrs_ for the Dark Side.

"_Draco, no matter what happens to us, there is a battle coming. Fight for the people who will protect you, no matter their side. I need to know you'll be safe. Promise me."_

It was a goodbye. What could he say if she was telling him goodbye? He couldn't bring himself to say what he had meant to. He couldn't tell her he was sorry for every tear shed on his behalf, every fear realized as her son accepted a life that would surely mean death. He had realized all too late that the mark carved into his flesh meant an existence plagued by fear and loss. He simply didn't _hate_ the way the rest of them seemed to. The blood that stained the floors of the manor had changed him. He remembered all their names – their faces. There were Death Eaters who had angered the Dark Lord scattered in with the Mudbloods. They had all pleaded for their lives as he was made to watch, and their blood all looked the same to him.

He looked into his Mother's pleading eyes and he couldn't promise to be alive at the end of all things any more than she could.

……………………………………………………………………………….

Pain. It overwhelmed him. He was bleeding somewhere inside – he could _taste_ it. But… had he survived then? Had the creatures attacked him and then left him for dead? He tried to look around but his vision was blurred and his head was thudding dully in rhythm with his pulse – he must have hit it somehow. He took a deep breath to gain equilibrium, but Gods! that was painful – as though someone had stabbed him in the back. Suddenly the blood was blocking his air flow and coughed desperately, bringing up more.

"Anapneo."

"...G..Granger?" He wheezed, shocked that she of all people was next to him. The blood was gone from his airway.

"Malfoy, don't try to move, alright?" She said softly.

"…Can't breathe," he choked out, "…stabbing… stabbing in my back…"

He needed to stop talking. He was sure it was making things worse. He could hear muffled voices beside him.

"_You're the best chance he's got…"_

"…_I could kill him if I tried!"_

"_He'll die if you don't do something…"_

"…_But I need instructions, Harry!"_

"_Hermione, look around you…This isn't the library - he needs help now..."_

"…_It isn't like just putting on a bloody Band-Aid."_

"_You must have read about this at some point. You've got to try_._"_

Silence.

"Merlin help me," Hermione whispered to herself before kneeling at his side. "Harry, help me turn him on his side. Malfoy, I'm really sorry – this will hurt."

With a tormented scream as her only assurance, Hermione said the words she hoped were mending his broken ribs, pulling them from the lung tissue she suspected they had punctured.

Blood. A lot of it. It was filling his mouth and air way again. Hermione inhaled sharply as it trickled from his mouth into a pool on the floor. His breathing had become raspy and gurgled.

"Anapneo," she said, sounding much shakier this time.

It took her a full minute of watching his impassive face to convince herself she hadn't killed him – that he had only blacked out from the pain. Setting to work once more, she nervously spoke the words that she had only ever read about, hoping and praying that she had diagnosed him correctly, and that she was healing and not hurting him.

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_**Thanks for Reading - Please Review!**_


	3. Just Human

**A/N: Thanks for Reading!! This is a shorter chapter, but only because the next chapter needed all of its own space! :) J.K. Rowling owns everything!**

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**Chapter 3**

**Just Human**

In the brief glimpses Kreacher had caught during the transfers, he said he had seen how close they had all come to death. Malfoy, now stabilized, was obviously the closest call. Kreacher said he'd seen Malfoy's eyes close just before a threstral reared and pinned him to the stone floor with a single hoof.

"Kreacher heard the crack of bones before he brought him back. Kreacher was almost stepped on too." The elf was very obviously disgruntled.

"Thank you, Kreacher – for everything," Harry said, looking up to see Ginny next to him pale, but unharmed. He turned to see Hermione on his other side, tending a deathly-still Draco Malfoy. He glanced behind him and saw that Blaise Zabini was looking with horror upon his fellow Slytherin, while Terry and Neville seemed to be suffering from some form of shock. Lavender had her knees hugged to her chest and was sobbing gently into her hands. He passed a hand over his eyes and tried to imagine where Ron could possibly be. Why couldn't it be him here in a safe place instead of Malfoy?

"Is everyone alright?" Harry asked.

Blaise was the only one who seemed to notice he had spoken. He looked at Harry with a haunted expression, that for a moment reminded him of how Firenze had looked as he fought off… well, whatever it was that had taken hold of him.

"What do _you_ think, Potter?" He asked. But there was no bite in his voice – there was only weariness. "Where are we anyway?"

At that question, they began to look around. It was a large area, certainly, but without the echoes of a vast hall. It was cold and incredibly dark. Harry realized suddenly that he alone was holding his wand aloft – the 'lumos' he had muttered earlier providing the only light in this windowless place.

"We are in the kitchens, Master," Kreacher said, shuffling around slowly, trying to clear the area around the group of broken dishes and debris.

"But… can't they find us here?"

"Master says a safe place. There is no one here now," Kreacher said.

"Right." Harry was just so tired. They couldn't still be in danger. They just _couldn't_. Without realizing it, he had sunk to the ground in a slump. He could hear Ginny's voice, but couldn't focus on her words. What the hell had happened just now? His whole life had led up to this point. His… whole… life. And they had won, hadn't they? Everything was wrong. This entire milestone in his existence was completely screwed up. He groaned, feeling as though he was slipping backwards into blackness. It was Ginny's lips on his that brought him back. Slowly, deliberately, his mind latched on to that contact as a lifeline. The blackness began to dissolve from around his eyes as she pulled back. She was kneeling in front of him, eyes desperate for a connection, as unintentional tears fell across her fair skin.

"Sorry, Gin," he whispered, pulling her close and burying his face in her hair. "We'll be alright."

It was surreal for the Slytherin standing close by to see them hold on to each other. The Boy Who Lived was really just human after all. He tensed when Hermione moved unexpectedly. When he saw her pull out her wand and begin muttering what sounded like complex shield charms and other wards, he felt grateful for the opportunity to do something. He moved to what he guessed was the entrance to the place and began to cast a series of complex booby-trapping spells and other protections that a girl raised by 'the light side' probably wouldn't have thought of. But there was only so much to be done before they would all have to speak to each other again, and no one was eager to ground them in this new reality by trying to figure it all out.

Hermione broke the silence first, sitting next to Lavender and comforting her. It took nearly ten minutes to calm the girl. By that time, Neville and Terry were showing signs of coherence as well.

"Shhh," Hermione soothed, "We'll be alright now."

"…You d-didn't _see_ them!" Lavender hiccoughed.

"We all did, Lav," Hermione said in a coaxing voice, "They can't hurt us now."

"W-what happened to them?" She asked in a pained voice.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, "It was like they were bewitched. Most of those creatures aren't violent by nature. I even recognized a few that were Hagrid's friends."

"Oh, God Hermione!" Lavender sobbed. "They w-wouldn't even l-listen to him. They all _knew_ him… they _t-trusted _him! What would make them _do _that?!"

Hermione felt sick. _Not Hagrid too…_ she thought to herself. She felt the tears sting at her eyes, threatening to fall. It was all too much. How many people had died? Were they the only ones left in all of Hogwarts? Where was Ron? She gave in, crying silently with Lavender as Neville reached out a hand and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

…………………………………………………………………………..

Nearly two hours of grieving and soft, halted conversation had followed their chaotic appearance in the kitchens. Two hours of holding on to each other just to _feel_ something that didn't hurt. Two hours of theories, of impromptu eulogies for the suspected dead, of wasted ideas that were meant to answer 'what now?'

When everyone was too weary to continue, they all lay close together on blankets and towels Kreacher had managed to find throughout the kitchens, and lit the candles he had found in order to keep their wands close at hand.

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**A/N: I'm awfully sorry about Hagrid. I could just see him in my mind trying desperately to talk with these creatures he knew and loved, and being so devastated by their reaction that he didn't even try to escape.**

**Next chapter is a feel-good one, I promise! :) Please Review.**


	4. How it Hurts

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!! As promised, here is a nice, long _feel good_ chapter. I really am trying to get Draco to come around, but he's so damned stubborn - he caused me to re-write this chapter three times! :P**

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**Chapter 4**

**How it Hurts**

She dreamt of Ron that night. It was a strange sort of dream. It was one of the nights they had all spent in that well-worn tent. She curled over the book of children's stories given to her by Dumbledore, Harry kept watch outside, and Ron was across from her sprawled listlessly in a chair. He kept looking over at her – she could feel it. Finally looking up, she caught him. He didn't look away. They sat looking at each other for a moment before she asked, "What?" irritably. It was her turn to wear the locket. She couldn't be expected to be pleasant. He shrugged and looked away again. It was an odd sort of thing to remember. The dream changed. They were in a little house of their own with muggle appliances all around. Everything began to happen at once. It started with the stove setting fire to one of the kitchen towels. Before she could get to the sink for water, the refrigerator lurched over in front of her, food spilling onto the floors. She could hear the telephone begin to ring frantically, and the kettle on the open flames whistling angrily. Shelves around her began to break, sending dishes crashing onto the floor around her. She looked up fearfully at Ron, still sprawled across the chair. Again, he looked back at her and shrugged before looking away. Suddenly she felt as though she would suffocate. There were people all around her pushing - screaming. They were all trying to get away from something, and she was caught in the middle of it all, struggling to breathe. Looking around desperately for help, she spotted Ron, and she felt hopeful. She saw him run toward Harry before taking one last backwards glance and shrugging. This time he was gone.

She woke up with tears in her eyes, trying to push away the traitorous thoughts of Ron abandoning her when she needed him most. She was terrified to think about how she felt for him now. She had put off the feeling of dread through most of this past year. Their extended time together had shown him to be a good person and a loyal friend, and she had always remembered feeling _something_ for him. But as his attentions toward her had increased, it seemed her affections waned. She couldn't understand it, mentally scolding herself again and again for feeling… _nothing_ in return. She blamed it all on the stress of their situation. She couldn't possibly be expected to feel anything romantic while they were hunting down Voldemort's soul, for Heaven's sake!

She had felt so relieved when she could see the end of it all in sight; she had kissed him, trying desperately to ignite some deep-buried feeling. The kiss she blamed on herself. She must have been trying too hard to truly enjoy the way a kiss – a _first kiss_ – should feel. Yes, she could have continued to convince herself that she still loved him underneath it all until she saw his face as he fled. Now… well… now it was late. And she had just had an upsetting dream. It must just be her way of coping with everything that had happened. Maybe she just needed to know he was alive before her brain would allow her to love him again.

Beside her, she heard Malfoy groan softly in his sleep and turned her attention toward him, grateful for the distraction.

……………………………………………………………………………

Draco awoke long after the others had fallen asleep when he felt a small hand close around his wrist. He kept his eyes closed, trying to assess his condition, and felt immediately relieved to be breathing easily, albeit sorely. The sensation of choking on his own blood was very close to being the most horrible experience in his memory, and it had been terrifyingly close to being his last.

Trying not to betray his awareness, Draco peered through his lashes at the figure next to him. It was Granger. He could see her face drawn in concentration, and he could feel her softly running her fingers over the Mark on his arm. He hated that she was touching him there. It was a reminder of every horror up to this moment. It made him feel responsible, somehow, for everything that had happened to them.

"Not there, Granger," he said in an unsteady voice, his hand reaching over and stilling hers.

"You're awake!" she said, unable to mask her surprise. Then she looked down to her hand, still covered by his.

"I'm sorry. Does it hurt?" she asked gently.

"Not the way you would think," he said taking his first deep breath since the battle had begun.

Reaching up, he could feel a gauzy material wrapped around his head. He looked at the girl next to him and remembered her terrified face as she knelt beside him trying to stop the blood flowing from his nose and mouth. She looked back at him, trying valiantly to hide the pride she felt from her success.

It would be nice to thank her for everything, he thought. She had saved his life after all. It was a nice thought.

"Any permanent damage, then, Granger?" he drawled, his tone making it clear that he neither wanted nor needed assurance from her.

He knew she didn't mean for it to show, but he saw it flicker across her face. Disappointment. He couldn't imagine why she should be surprised.

She recovered immediately and continued on in a polite tone, "Your lung was nearly collapsed so you won't be able to run marathons any time soon. And you've got a gash above your right eye that will need some time to heal."

"That's bloody brilliant," he said dryly, "I've always wanted a fucking scar on my forehead."

She couldn't help but laugh, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

"It isn't funny," he said, sounding genuinely irritated by her mirth. "It's another damned mark I have to live with for the rest of my life."

She stopped laughing immediately, taken aback by the statement. Had he just said…? _'another damned mark…' _Something he had to live with? His tone, if nothing else, made it sound as though the Mark on his arm was something of a cross to be borne… but Death Eaters usually revered it as something sacred. Could he have _meant_ that?

It was totally unconscious, her hand going back to rest upon his forearm. She hadn't really known what had drawn her to trace her fingers over it the first time. Perhaps she was expecting something different. She had thought something so inherently tied to Dark magic would _feel_… well, feel like _something_. But she had been startled to feel the warmth of his skin. The Mark itself had a certain texture to it, but his skin had been _soft_. There was nothing at all sinister or evil in the way he felt, and something had welled up inside of her at the sight of his sleeping face in the candlelight. He had looked troubled… worried, even. And terribly sad. It was the kind of look reserved for someone. Someone close. He had told her the Mark didn't hurt the way she thought. And now she realized it as they were looking at each other. She knew how it hurt him. The tone of his voice was enough to make her believe he had wanted a different life. Her hand had found its way back to the source of that pain, and she softly traced her fingers across his skin. She wondered absently who that look had been for. Who was it that Malfoy truly cared for?

"Granger…" he said, looking uncomfortable. He pulled his left arm out of her grasp gently, before gingerly turning on his side, away from her. "Get some sleep."

……………………………………………………………………………….

The first time she touched him, he had wanted her to stop. That damned Mark was all he'd ever be to these people, he remembered thinking. Then he had told her the one thing he wasn't sure he was ready for anyone to hear. He hadn't even said the words, but the way she reacted made him sure she had heard it in his voice. He didn't want it. None of it. He was done with that life.

He waited for her to say something predictable – something challenging and so very Gryffindor. Or maybe she would simply change the subject, ignoring the subtle hint. He prayed for anything… anything that would leave him free to fall into the old role of her enemy.

But against all logic, she had touched him again, and it had felt different this time. She was looking at him thoughtfully while tracing her fingers across his skin. In some ways, it was the most intimate touch he could remember feeling in almost two years. She knew the one thing about him that no one else suspected, and the fingers on his skin might as well have been the comforting embrace he had been longing for. It was acceptance and reassurance. He wished he could do the same for her, somehow. He wished he could pull her into his arms and comfort her in the way only she needed.

That section in his mind that controlled fear seemed to sense his newfound peace, and clamped down upon him. He couldn't believe he had allowed himself to feel this way. He was weak if he needed this kind of attention from anyone, least of all Granger.

Gods, what was wrong with him? He didn't want to be this person anymore. He didn't need his father's voice inside his head telling him that attachments were liabilities, and that comfort was for children. But he didn't know how to begin, and he didn't have the energy to start a new life tonight. So he did the only thing he knew how – he turned away before he would have to promise anything.

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**As always, thanks for reading! Please Review! And I own NOTHING Harry Potter-related whatsoever.**


	5. Volunteers

**A/N: Thanks for Reading! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed - you all give me the motivation I need to write!**

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**Chapter 5**

**Volunteers**

Draco was the last to wake the next morning. He could hear the others in some sort of a heated debate. He sat up, confused for a moment why it was still so dark. He looked up to see the candles flickering against the solid stone walls and remembered where they were.

"It _has_ to be during the day," Terry was imploring the group. "It just makes the most sense. What if we got to Hogsmeade in the dead of night? We wouldn't know if it had been attacked!"

"D'you really think we won't be able to tell a place that's been attacked in _any_ light?" asked Blaise sarcastically. "D'you think all the animals have hidden themselves cleverly inside the undamaged houses just waiting to surprise us?"

"We won't be able to see at night!!" Terry continued.

"Oh for Heaven's sake, look around Terry," said Ginny rolling her eyes and gesturing to the gaping darkness they had been in for the past several hours. "It's the daylight that'll make us squint now."

"Harry…" Neville spoke up a bit nervously, "I don't think these things _sleep_. How will we get all the way back to the Room of Requirement without them seeing us?"

"We've got to hope they _do_ sleep, mate," Zabini said.

"Wait," Lavender spoke up, the fear still evident in her voice, "I don't want to go out there asleep or awake! Why doesn't one person go and send back help for the rest of us?"

"Look, if we decide to go, it's got to be all of us," Hermione said authoritatively. "But first I think we should send out… well… scouts. To see if they sleep at all."

Malfoy laughed from his position on the floor.

"So if the scouts don't come back…" he said with a smirk, "It'll make things pretty clear."

"What could possibly be funny about any of this, Malfoy?" Hermione asked narrowing her eyes at him.

"I'm just going bloody mad," he said, standing up and walking over to her. "This fucking battle was supposed to be over by now. I'm laughing because it's a crap position to be in after everything – just feels like fate fucking around with us, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry said, feeling relieved that someone else was taking this as badly as he was.

"So I'll go," Malfoy said, surprising them all. "Who else then?"

"I'm with you, mate," Zabini said.

"No!" said Terry forcefully.

"Why the hell not?" Blaise demanded, looking angry. "_You _don't exactly strike me as the type who risks his life for others," he said witheringly.

"Forgive us if we don't want our scouts to find their way to the Room of Requirement and leave us thinking the buggers _don't_ sleep," Terry said accusingly.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes dangerously at Terry, who looked suddenly nervous.

"Well wouldn't it just be brilliant for a couple of little Death Eaters' sons to traipse into Hogsmeade without bloody fucking Potter to clear them!" Draco replied angrily. "What a brilliant fucking plan – let's go Blaise – you feeling up to supper at Azkaban? Or wait - I'll bet if we left right now, we could find our relatives and be killed by them for fucking outright betrayal before nightfall!" He was shouting now.

"Draco…" Hermione breathed, resting a hand on his arm.

"No, I get it alright?" He shouted back at her, yanking up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark. The others gasped. Hermione just looked at him with a pained expression. "I've got the fucking membership card right here, haven't I?"

"Draco, stop," Hermione said softly.

It seemed to register for the first time that Hermione had been calling him by his first name. He looked over at her and his temper deflated. She looked so small gazing up with eyes that said _she_ trusted in him. He felt her petite hand slip down into his before he realized the others were still watching. Looking up at their shocked stares bitterly, he yanked his hand away from her and took a candle with him to the opposite side of the large kitchens.

……………………………………………………………………………

Why had he had to lose his temper like that? The last thing he needed was pity for the poor repentant Death Eater. It was stupid of him and he could kick himself for rising so easily to the bait. He shook his head in his hands wearily before looking up at the sound of someone approaching. It was her. The others had started up their conversations again, including an apologized-to Blaise, who knew better than to come near Draco when he was in this state.

She sat down next to him quietly. He waited for her to speak, not knowing what to say.

"I'll go with you."

The same instinct as before took hold. He had taken her out of harm's way once, and now that bloody impulse to protect her had surfaced again. _Don't do this_, he said to himself, _she isn't even a damned friend_. But it didn't matter. The part of him that wanted her safe was clawing desperately at his mind, trying to tell her not to come. He clamped his mouth shut – telling her to stay would be telling her too much. He didn't understand how, but she could see through him in a way no one else had ever been able to. He was too embarrassed… too confused to think about what she might see now. And he was too afraid to question… if… well… _why_ he cared for her.

He put up his act of indifference.

"Suit yourself, Granger, but I'm leaving now."

At least she was going with _him_, he reasoned. At least he could be there to keep her safe.

………………………………………………….

The group was circled around Kreacher, smiling.

"Your bloody Gryffindor requirement has been met," Draco said approaching them. "We're leaving now."

"No need, mate – we've got ourselves a little volunteer," Blaise said smirking as he indicated Kreacher.

Relief surged through Draco, knowing he didn't need to worry. She'd be alright now.

Hermione looked from Blaise to the cross-armed elf and opened her mouth to protest, but Harry was faster.

"Listen, Hermione, Kreacher can get to the Room of Requirement and back without giving away our location. If anyone sees him, he can get away without getting hurt."

She looked at the several pairs of eyes begging her not to argue this point and nodded wearily.

Harry led Kreacher out of earshot of the others to apologize to the elf and give him instructions.

"We just need to know if we can get to the portrait hole – it's still the only safe way out of here. Kreacher if you're seen by one of them… don't come back here straight away. Get somewhere else… er… safe. Try the common rooms or something," Harry was struggling to find the right words, but finally gave up. His like for the elf in front of him had increased dramatically since their first meeting, but he would not risk those demons just outside the door knowing they were in here, silencing spell or not. "Just stay in a safe place for a few hours – give them time to stop looking for you – and then come back."

The elf grumbled something that sounded like:

"…Kreacher always obeys his _master_…" the last word was shot back at Harry with a hurt look before the elf disappeared with a 'pop.'

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	6. Wanted

**A/N: Short chapter, I know! But you'll see why and hopefully forgive me!**

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**Chapter 6**

**Wanted**

When Kreacher hadn't returned within ten minutes, the hope of an easy get-away through the portrait hole was lost, but the group in the kitchens did their best to ignore the time that was passing, taking comfort in each other's company. Harry and Ginny had broken away from the group without a candle and were… _not _talking. Terry and Neville had struck up an odd-man-out sort of friendship and were chatting nervously about Quidditch and Herbology to keep from thinking about why Kreacher hadn't returned. Blaise, always the smooth Slytherin, had started up a conversation with Lavender and now had one arm draped across her smiling form. The relative darkness, combined with the soft glow of the candles seemed to set the scene. Draco was sitting next to Hermione. The air around them was cool and damp from the storm they suspected was still raging outside. He watched as Blaise and Lavender flirted at the other end of the kitchens. He saw Blaise lift her hand to his lips and place a kiss there over-dramatically. She giggled and blushed, leaning into him. He could hear the soft intakes of breath coming somewhere far to the left of them and could imagine the heated groping and petting going on there. He looked back to see Blaise and Lavender wrapped up in a passionate kiss, and could see Blaise's hands beginning to wander.

Draco felt Hermione's hand slip into his, and he didn't let go. It was dark where they were, but he could make out the candlelight glowing in her eyes.

He knew then that he was only a flesh and blood man. He could feel his arousal begin to build.

Damn her to make him feel this way. He could handle being dead inside. She made him feel vulnerable. His eyes drifted over the curves of her face, and the hair cascading softly across her neck. His gaze had suddenly become intimate there – at the place on her neck he felt drawn to taste. He took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself. When he reached back up to meet her eyes, he could see that they had become clouded with the same want as his. If he had moved closer to her consciously, he didn't remember. He watched in wonder as she closed her eyes and turned her face up toward him, waiting. Her face was lovely this way – filled with contentment and eagerness. Merlin knew he wanted to feel the softness of her lips against his, but he couldn't leave the rest of the world behind as easily as she had. Leaning down, he let his head sink onto her shoulder.

"Draco?" she whispered shakily, blinking back the disappointment and confusion she felt.

He pushed back from her, letting go of her hand.

"Granger, you've got a boyfriend," he said, running a shaky hand through his hair. "I won't be your bloody rebound until you find out the coward's alive."

……………………………………………………………………………………

He dreamt of Hermione that night. In the dream, he had woken up in the dark with the curtains drawn around his old dormitory bed. He felt her before he saw her next to him. Turning on his side, he let his eyes roam over her bare skin, and was immediately filled with desire. He pulled her sleeping form close to him, and lowered his lips to hers. She responded ardently, pushing her body up against his and deepening their kiss. He broke the kiss to undress quickly, needing to feel her skin against his. Once he had regained contact, he let his hands roam to her breasts, his fingers tracing light outlines, causing her to arch against him with need. His mouth sunk down to take first one and then the other into his mouth, his tongue teasing the soft pink flesh there, while his hand swept down across her smooth skin to penetrate her slick folds. Hooking a leg around him, she guided him into her quivering warmth. He took her slowly, in long, steady thrusts, until he could take no more. Shifting her beneath his body, he surged into her desperately, waiting to let go until he heard her cry out in pleasure.

As quickly as it had come, the frenzied lust was gone, replaced by something much deeper, and much more possessive. He draped his Marked arm across her body. She had hesitated momentarily before closing the distance between them, nestling her back into his chest. "…Hermione…" he had sighed contentedly, cradling her against himself, before drifting into a _dreamless_ sleep.

…………………………………………………………...

Hermione woke with a start in the middle of the night when she felt an arm close around her waist. For a moment, she panicked, not wanting Ron to be this close to her. She saw the Mark upon the pale arm and relaxed into Draco's embrace, allowing him to pull her closer against him. She felt it then. The arousal straining against her bottom. She blushed, realizing that he was probably dreaming of something… well… _inappropriate_. She felt him grind his hips against her before taking a deep breath and exhaling "_Hermione…"_ in a tone she couldn't quite identify. She blushed, realizing that he had been dreaming of her. Without knowing why, she felt tears well up in her eyes. It was the first time he had acknowledged any sort of feeling for her. She had abused her already battered mind when she began to feel attracted to him, telling herself that even if she didn't feel anything for Ron, she shouldn't let herself fall for someone who was completely indifferent to her. She almost sobbed in relief, feeling his arms around her, knowing that he did feel something, even if it was only lust. But no… when he had said her name – it hadn't sounded like lust. It had… well, it had sounded like a man reassuring himself that his wife was still asleep by his side. Gods, she needed to stop analyzing this. She felt him cradle her closer gently, before she allowed herself to close her eyes, and fall back to sleep feeling _wanted_.

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	7. Path of Least Resistance

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story so far! It gives me such encouragement! I am very sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up! Hopefully next chapters will be speedier! Thanks go out to my beta Dreamstallion33!**

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**  
Chapter 7**

**Path of Least Resistance**

It would be a disconcerting thing for any man dreaming of a night of forbidden pleasure to wake up and find his lover wrapped in his arms. In that hazy continuation of a dream that follows waking, Malfoy panicked, thinking something had happened in his sleep. What had he done!?

Wait. It didn't make sense. They were both still dressed. Had she somehow huddled into him during the night? He realized with no small amount of shock that they were on _her_ blankets, not his. He had been drawn to her even in his sleep, then. Taking a deep breath, he shook the remaining fog from his aching head and looked down to see her smiling softly, her small right hand interlaced with his left. She looked so delicate beside him – lovely, really. _Screw Weasley_, he thought to himself. _He had his chance._

He saw the contrast of her creamy skin against the Mark on his arm and wished it would somehow go away. He wanted to be more than that decision had made of him. He wanted more options than it had allowed him. He wanted her.

He was laying still, waiting to read the expression in her eyes once she awoke and saw it was him so incredibly close to her. A part of him needed to know if she'd be disappointed that it wasn't… _him_… he cringed suddenly at the comparison.

He heard someone chuckle at the foot of his makeshift bedroll and jerked his head up. Blaise had walked over to him during the last part of his reverie and now had his arms crossed over his chest and his head cocked in curiosity at the two, laughter concealed in his eyes. He had obviously translated Draco's grimace as being connected with seeing a Mudblood so close to him.

Out of habit, Draco was filled with dread.

At the look on his face, Blaise laughed in earnest, endeavoring not to make a sound as the others slept on around them.

"Don't worry, mate," he said genially, "You're not the only one who woke up in a Gryffindor tangle."

At this he nodded his head to the area behind Draco. Behind a disgustingly entwined Potter and She-Weasel, he could see Lavender Brown clinging to a heap of empty blankets next to her.

"Damn complicated thing, that," he said earnestly, "trying to get out of it without waking her up. Now just have to convince her she's better off without me blah blah blah – scared girls are easy, but damned clingy – best taken in small doses, if you know what I mean," he mused.

"Look, Blaise…" Draco began.

"Like I said – all in this together and united against a greater evil and all that. It's not like I'm going to tell on you, mate. No one left to tell anyhow, eh?"

"Yeah," Draco said, trying to swallow a sigh of relief. "Right."

"Just thought I'd give you the chance to move before I wake the others."

Blaise was right. It wouldn't do to let anyone see him like this. He never should have allowed himself to think of Granger like that anyway. Another Slytherin was all it took to snap him back into rational thinking again.

Who was he kidding? He didn't care what Blaise or anyone else thought. He was suddenly just too chicken-shit to wait and see if she _was_ disappointed. He'd take the image of her smiling in her sleep over a look of horror any day of the week. Merlin – he wasn't even sure what day of the week it was.

Gently, he pulled his arms from around her, noting the sudden look on her face at the loss. A fierce debate ensued in his mind over who she thought she was losing. He got up and moved over to where Blaise was standing.

"Just for the night, then?" Malfoy asked him, nodding his head at Lavender.

"Yeah, well," Blaise smirked at him conspiratorially. "Same reason I can't blame you, isn't it? We could all hear Potter messing about with the red head in the corner – chain reaction, I'd say – we've all got bloody needs, and the two little Gryffindors seemed only too happy to be… ah… comforted, shall we say?" he laughed again. Draco felt a need to distance himself from his housemate, but reminded himself that that was just Blaise. He was nothing if not a bit of a jerk. It was his brutal honesty about everyone and everything that had drawn Draco to him in the first place. Draco knew his own _bloody needs_, as Blaise had put it, might have explained why he woke up with Hermione in his arms. It didn't explain why he had wanted her to stay there.

A loud 'pop' woke everyone.

It was Kreacher, taking none too kindly to the half-dozen wands pointed at him. But there was someone else, and no one had been prepared for that.

"Ron?!"

Hermione panicked. _Gods, there he is! Alive! My… my boyfriend…_ she turned the word over in her mind, but thoughts of Draco invaded that word, somehow.Another surge of emotions swept over her as she realized she was alone upon waking. She looked up into Draco's eyes as Ron was being patted on the back by his fellow survivors, and wasn't prepared for the look of revulsion she saw there. She looked away the instant she had caught the first glimpse. If it had only been jealousy or even anger, it might have given her pause.

It was one thing for her to stop caring about a boy she had liked all those years just because she had made her mind up to do so. It was another thing altogether to have him here in front of her. She stood up as he turned to face her. It was just her cruel and horrid luck that she could see the fuzzy outline of Draco leaning against a counter just over Ron's left shoulder. So here she was in some horribly twisted version of one of those muggle dating shows being made to choose.

She found herself looking at Ron.

Merlin knew she had been through enough this past year without fighting for someone to like her back. She was just too tired to take on Malfoy, with soft words one moment and spiteful looks the next. It was all just so hard. She wanted to trust the part of her mind that said he had feelings for her. In the few moments that he had allowed her to believe he could love her, she had felt beautiful and passionate and terribly alive. It was the first time she had ever felt so swept up in _any_ emotion – it was simply incredible to _feel_ the way she had when… when they had _almost_ kissed. She wanted to believe that she had been that close to what a first kiss _should_ be.

But damn it all – everything was just _easier_ with Ron… well, predictable, really. But what did that matter in the long run? She felt she could go the rest of her life living a routine if it meant she was _sure_ of someone to be with. She knew Ron could love her, even if she was a bit distant. She had always been distant.

"_You don't have to be so cold – it's okay to feel stuff, you know,"_ Ron had said, feeling embarrassed about his own show of emotion after seeing that Hermione had shed only a few silent tears at Dumbledore's funeral. The words stung. She couldn't handle most emotions – she couldn't handle letting go long enough. She couldn't handle not feeling in control. With Malfoy, she _never_ felt in control – it was an exhilarating feeling, but most assuredly dangerous. She just needed someone _safe_ like Ron.

"_Safe people are boring, Hermione…" _she remembered Ginny telling her when she had refused to help with a prank in fifth year. But safe was all she _knew_.

Damn Malfoy for making her feel this way. She could handle being cold inside. Why did he have to show her what it was to feel such… warmth? If she had gone her whole life without feeling that mixture of excitement and uncertainty… anxiety and… and happiness… she was sure she wouldn't know to miss it.

She looked up at Ron and saw a question of forgiveness in his eyes. She would break. It was too much to ask of her. But she knew she needed a figure to fill in that formula she called her life. She tried desperately to make herself feel something for Ron that she suspected had been gone for some time. In her desperate search of his eyes, she had taken a step forward, unconsciously. It was all the encouragement he needed. He swept her up in his arms and began placing frantic kisses in her disheveled hair.

"Hermione, I'm _so_ sorry," he breathed, holding her much tighter than necessary. "I just panicked… I… I never should have left you there – thank Merlin you're alright!"

He pulled back and gave her a meaningful look before closing the distance between them with a clumsy kiss. It didn't feel right – Hermione pulled back away from him, but Ron pushed his lips roughly against hers one more time, trying and failing to deepen the kiss before relenting.

"Honestly – save it for when we don't have to watch," Ginny said smirking at them.

"Sorry," he said with a roguish grin that clearly spoke pride in his actions rather than restraint for anyone's sake. He had given her some breathing room, but he wouldn't let go of her. She felt ill. She wanted him to stop touching her – she felt trapped in his embrace.

Harry, Neville and Terry looked uncomfortable from having witnessed the display. Lavender was glaring in turns at Blaise and Ron. Blaise looked between Lavender and Hemrione, thoroughly amused.

Hermione was at the wrong angle to see Malfoy's face.

"Right, then," Harry said sheepishly. "Let's hear the good and the bad, shall we? Kreacher, where were you?"

"Kreacher went to the common rooms once they saw him. The Slytherin portrait has been destroyed. No one is there. Kreacher checked the other common rooms as master said he should. The other elves are there. They wanted a safer place than the kitchens."

"Yeah, well the advantages of requiring a password sort of outweigh a door that can simply be tickled," Terry said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

This did nothing to encourage the moody elf, who began to stalk off, muttering about ingratitude.

"Wait Kreacher," Harry said in a conciliatory tone. "Of course we're grateful. Now, tell us everything."

Kreacher drew himself up to what he considered an imposing height before continuing.

"The creatures are still in Hogwarts. They sleep in the day. Kreacher saw the portrait master asked him to find. It was destroyed. The room has lost its magic. Behind, there is no tunnel anymore – only a stone wall. Kreacher tried to apparate out of the castle but he was trapped at the great entrance, and the storm still blows outside the doors."

"Gods…" whispered Lavender. "We're trapped here."

"The other common rooms are safe," he continued. "Kreacher tried to tell the other elves to come to the kitchens, but they refused. They have asked Kreacher to bring their people food."

There was a collective intake of breath at the news of more survivors.

Harry turned to Ron.

"There are others?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

Now that the entire room's attention was focused on him, Ron loosened his grip enough that Hermione was able to slip from his side, unnoticed.

"Yeah," he said. "Two in Gryffindor tower – Parvati and Bill."

"Parvati's alright?" gasped Lavender, as relief flowed into her face.

"Bill's there?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Where's Fleur?"

Ron looked at the ground and mumbled something inaudible.

"What?"

"He doesn't know! He's going bloody mad!" Ron said loudly.

There was a tense pause before Harry continued.

"Kreacher, how many others are alive?"

"Kreacher saw two in the Hufflepuff room, and four in the Ravenclaw room."

"Who were they?"

"Kreacher didn't know them."

"Did anyone know what happened?"

"Tinky told Kreacher she heard one of them talk. He said 'you shall be punished for the destruction of the earth.'"

An eerie silence followed as they contemplated his words.

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	8. Heaven

**A/N: Terribly sorry for the delay in updating! Thank you, as always, for the ever-motivating and encouraging reviews!! For anyone who's new, thank you so much for taking the time to read!!  
**

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**Chapter 8**

**Heaven's So Far Away**

"_There are many emotions that are inappropriate for a man of the Malfoy line, Draco. You must learn to control any emotion that could make your actions irrational._" It was something his father liked to tell him often. "_Anger is acceptable. What you are expressing toward me is rage. Rage is unstable – badly controlled by you, and easily manipulated by others._"

The lessons continued thus for the greater part of his life… he was reprimanded for rage, despair, shock… even extreme happiness was wrong. His mind was currently wrapped around a memory from last year during his first raid. He had done miserably, of course, managing not to kill, maime, or even intimidate. He had told his father lamely that he had panicked, not knowing where to begin.

"_You idiot boy, have I taught you nothing? You must listen to your fear – it is a wise indicator of your situation. But panic! Your lack of control is nothing short of disgraceful. I would have thought you could recognize it as a distraction._"

It was very lucky that Crabbe and Goyle had done no better than him, or his father might not have found it necessary to speak in order to punish him. Draco felt that he had learned to master his emotions incredibly well, especially over the past two years, but one thing he had also learned early on was that feelings didn't particularly care whether or not he was a Malfoy.

Right now, his father's words in his head didn't make one damned bit of difference. Right now, he panicked.

Bloody fucking Weasel!

Why the hell had he had to hesitate last night? It had always been his weakness in battle, and it had followed him here. If he was anyone else, he would have just kissed her last night, told her he liked her, anything... But he was Draco Malfoy. Draco fucking Malfoy, who was much too dignified to do anything like that. If only Blaise hadn't woken up early. If only that damned red-head had got a look at her in his arms – just enough of a question planted in his mind to force the issue. He could handle being the bad guy if it meant she might defend his actions. She wouldn't be in that Weasel's arms right now if she was in _his _instead. After all that fucking talk to himself about _changing_ and _consequences be damned_, he turned out to be as much of a coward as the bastard that had appeared at Kreacher's side.

He was glaring at the new arrival with a loathing he was sure he had never felt before. That's when everything began working against him. He was determined to analyze every move of this new threat, so when he felt Hermione look over at him, he glanced only briefly in her direction. It was only a split second, but he knew immediately that she had been looking for something in his expression that meant he wished he _had_ kissed her last night. How was it his bloody fault if she didn't look at him long enough to see his face transform from hatred into anguish? If he could have the moment over again – those brief bits of seconds when everyone else was looking away from them… he didn't know what he would do. His eyes would have pleaded for her to stay away from Weasley. He would have tried to convey somehow that he just wasn't strong enough. He stared at her openly now, with an intensity he willed her to feel. _Just look one more time_ his mind was silently entreating her. _I got it all wrong – just look one more time and you'll see it._

He watched as her eyes became unfocused. So many tiny expressions passed over her face that they blurred into a single image of confusion. But Draco's world was moving so slowly, he could see each emotion play out. Shock. Hurt. Hope. Disappointment. Consideration. Resignation.

_Just one glimpse _he continued his silent prayer. _Just look past him._ But then she took a step forward and things went horribly wrong. He waited for it to be a mistake. He waited for her to push him away and slap him across the face.

And then it couldn't be taken back anymore. He watched as she kissed him, and the pain overwhelmed him.

…………………………………………………………………………

How could he have let himself get to this point? Just a few minutes earlier, he had decided against discretion. _Screw Weasley_, he had thought. _He had his chance._ In making that decision, he had let himself think for just a few seconds about how it could be to have something real in his life for a change. How could he have thought she might somehow belong to him once all this was said and done? Gods! He had actually _wanted_ her to be his. And it shocked him.

He suddenly remembered his mother sitting him down after catching him with a girl the summer after fourth year. He had been days away from turning fifteen. At first she had sat across from him looking at her hands clasped in her lap. This was supposed to be his father's job, he remembered thinking.

"_Draco, you've grown up so quickly,"_ she had said, looking at him at last. _"I can see that you are becoming a man."_

It was mortifying – having her talk to him about this. She looked like she was choosing her next words very carefully.

"_I would only ask that you be careful with your reputation. Someday you will find a woman you love very much. Think about that day, Draco," _she cautioned._ "When you find her, you will want her to know everything about you – even your past." _

"_Mother, you can't seriously think I'll just take a wife and start producing heirs straight away," _he had told her sarcastically.

"_You'll know when the time comes to choose your bride, love," _she had said confidently, seeming to remember something that made her smile.

"_Oh, really?" _Draco replied doubtfully. _"How's that?"_

He could see her eyes clear of reminiscence.

"_You'll know it when you find someone you would do anything to protect," _she replied softly. _"You'll know it when you wish you could change in order to make yourself better for them."_

"_Sounds brilliant, Mum," _he had said bitterly. _"I'll know I'm in love when I want to change who I am."_

_Bloody likely_, he had thought snidely.

Fucking hell. He wanted to change who he was. He was sick of being told just where that Mark put him in the grand scheme of things. He was tired of being told by dark and light alike exactly what his proper place was. He tried to tell himself it wasn't because of her. But he knew it wasn't true when he thought about her small hand upon his arm. Somehow that one touch had undone two years of lies about himself… and to himself. What did that make her?

He had all but made up his mind to give up his _proper_ _place_ in the world once Blaise presented him with an assumption of his actions. The way he had said Lavender was _just for fun_ made him damned sure what he felt for Hermione was different. For one thing, it wasn't any bloody fun. It was just pure anguish.

Like any good Malfoy, Draco tried to push himself past the agonized aching deep in his chest.

He had once asked his father what to do after losing an argument as well as his confidence to a townside boy. He felt angry and resentful for not getting his way, but most of all, he felt humiliated – as though life couldn't possibly go on for him after such a defeat. He asked how he could be expected to ever hold his head high again, feeling the way he did now. His father had given him a stern look for his whining, but then answered him in an amused tone.

"_You must learn to school your features, Draco. It is never a victory if they cannot affect you with your loss._"

Draco didn't like not being able to express his displeasure, but if it meant that they could never win against him, he would try with all his might to contain himself. Aside from everything else, he liked the sound of it – if no one could win against him, it was almost a sort of invincibility. His father had turned to leave the room, but paused at the door.

"_A Malfoy does not whine or worry over the outcome of a single conflict. There are always other ways of getting what we want._"

Gods, he hoped now more than ever that his father was right.

……………………………………………………………………………..

It was hard to try to pass that day. They tried for hours to strategize and plan a way to escape, but with no solid results. They just didn't have enough information. They could easily enough get out of the castle and to the grounds, but to what avail? How widespread was this assault of the creatures? How far outside of the grounds did they have to be to apparate now? Or could _anyone_ apparate at all? It was powerful magic that kept a house elf from being able to apparate... It was all the more simple with humans. A few in the room still hoped to use magic to re-open the passage in the Room of Requirement, but no one had any idea how. Without any guarantees, no one advocated the idea for long. If they were going to risk going out of the safety of this place, they needed to know it was going to work.

All nerves were frazzled by the time Terry brought up the Room of Requirement for the sixth time. Malfoy used no restraint in telling Terry how completely and utterly moronic he thought he was.

Terry was angry now.

"Well then what's your bloody fucking contribution? You sit there and offer nothing but complaints! I'm sick of you! You're just a fucking Death Eater – we should have known you wouldn't help us!"

"Terry!" Lavender said reprovingly.

"Look Malfoy," Harry said, barely masking his own annoyance, "I know that we haven't come up with anything brilliant yet, but why don't you take a shot at it then? Tell us what makes you so good at planning, why don't you?"

They all looked at Malfoy, but he was staring off into space contemplatively and didn't seem to have heard Harry.

"I _am_ rather good at fixing cabinets…" he said thoughtfully.

Now Harry was on his feet, anger flashing in his eyes.

"That's not even _close_ to being funny, you bastard."

Draco looked irritated with Harry for a moment before seeing that Hermione's eyes had lit up.

"_She_ got it," he said testily.

"But where is it?" she asked anxiously.

Zabini and Ginny had caught on by now.

"I can't be sure it's still in Borgin and Burkes – it _was_ at the beginning of the year. But it wouldn't matter where we ended up so long as it wasn't here, right?" he asked the group in general.

"But Malfoy, is there even one still here?" Hermione asked.

"What the bloody hell are you all going on about?" Terry demanded angrily.

"Vanishing cabinets," Malfoy said, exasperated he still had to catch some of them up. "And yes there's one still here. I made sure of it after sixth year. It's broken again, but with a bit of time, I could fix it."

Everyone in the room looked suddenly hopeful.

"Where is it, Malfoy?" Harry asked, trying again for politeness.

"They tried to remove it after… well, after sixth year," he said uncomfortably. "But I confunded the movers. It's in…" his face suddenly fell. "It _was_ in the Slytherin common room…"

The hopeful faces faded into despair as they recalled Kreacher's words. _The Slytherin portrait has been destroyed..._ The cabinet could have been destroyed too. And what were the chances of getting inside to repair it now when the creatures could so easily get into the unprotected room?

"We've got to chance it," Harry said uneasily. "We'll wait until Kreacher thinks it's safe. I'll go with you."

"I don't need a fucking babysitter, Potter," Malfoy said, scowling at him. "I think I've made it clear by now how stupid it would be for me to leave in my own."

"For Merlin's sake, I was just offering my bloody help," Harry said, exasperated.

Draco blinked.

"Well I don't need it," he said lamely, the edge gone from his tone. "You don't even know anything about Vanishing Cabinets."

"Actually Harry, I wanted to ask you to go back for me, will you?" Ron asked. "I told Bill I would come back and tell him what I found out."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I guess I'll go round to all the common rooms and tell everyone the plan. Are we ready now?"

Draco scowled at Potter.

"He said they sleep during the day, Potter. I like a good adventure as much as the next man, but really…" he trailed off sarcastically.

The others' faces fell. It was probably near dusk by now – they would have to wait until morning.

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	9. The Way Out

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Thank you everyone for reviewing! You are all so appreciated! **

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**The Way Out**

Everyone seemed to be sleeping well with the hope of escape surrounding them warmly. If anyone was still awake, the night would certainly have seemed endless.

Hermione had long since disentangled herself from Ron's sleepy grasp. In the soft glow of the single candle burning through the night, she stared up at the ceiling. She was trying desperately to analyze the chain of events that had led up to this point, certain that if she could sort her feelings out from the events, she would know how to behave tomorrow.

If anyone had seen her closeness to Malfoy since they had all arrived here, no one had mentioned it – least of all to Ron, for which she was grateful. It was too late to back down now, she had decided. Perhaps she could still make things work with Ron. It was what everyone expected, at least, which was an argument for the road _more_ traveled by – that path of least resistance she was already staggering down.

She couldn't help but feel a bit of resentment toward him now. Her time in this kitchen had been the first in almost five years that she had not had an expectation to meet – an obligation to fulfill. _Her boys_ had always been able to count on her for anything they needed, but with Ginny to see to Harry and with Ron missing in action, she'd had no one to consider but herself. It was intoxicating to think for a moment that she could act without incurring the usual consequences. She could only conclude that she had gone to the extreme of her freedom by allowing herself to feel for Malfoy. She felt that she had paid the same price for her folly as Icarus. Her wings had withstood Draco Malfoy. The wax and feathers binding her to her freedom had melted away in the arms of Ron Weasley.

She looked woefully upon the red-haired man that she would allow herself to be tied to – her _proper place_ – and sighed in resignation.

She suddenly saw movement beyond him, and noted that Draco was awake, pressing his palms to his forehead as though trying to ward off a headache. She raised herself silently on her elbow to better see him, realizing too late that the moment his hands left his face, she would be caught staring.

…………………………………………………………….

Draco had not had a particularly good day. Scratch that. Today was total and utter shite. In less than 48 hours he had gone from cautious acceptance to genuine attraction for the girl from the light side only to wind up in the scrap bin. It was honestly the first time he'd ever been cast aside by a girl. He was determined it would be the last. He had been working out a mental plan of attack for… well whatever it was that would split Hermione from that damned survivor, but all plans so far required that Weasley either be perpetually unavailable for comment or be perpetually acting like an ass in front of her. He didn't doubt the idiot's ability on the latter point, but he couldn't base his plans on something as unpredictable as behavior. And so he was back where he started, with Hermione labeled as somebody else's girl.

He pressed his hands against his face in frustration. When he opened his eyes, he looked over, wondering if he could see Hermione's sleeping form. He was met with her embarrassed gaze. Had she been watching him??

He knew he had to act now rather than risk not being able to later. He got up without a sound, not breaking his eye contact with her, and then moved to the other side of the kitchen. He looked back once he was there to see her following his example and tip-toeing over to him. The moment she was close by he cast a series of sound barriers around them and a concealment charm just in case any others should wake up.

And then they just stood looking at each other. He noticed that she didn't meet his gaze for long, blushing and looking down at his feet.

_Brilliant bloody idea_. _What the hell were you going to do once you got her here?_ He thought, scolding himself. _Make her see_ came the answer. _Try at least._

Even though he knew the silencing barriers were around them, he was afraid of speaking into the unwavering stillness. He took a step closer to her, not knowing what he should do now that she was so close. His proximity seemed to snap her out of her shyness as she looked back up at him, then over to where Ron was sleeping.

That hurt.

He consoled himself that at least she hadn't moved away from him. She looked back up into his eyes, and he knew what to do now. He closed the distance between them, letting his hands find the contours of her waist. It was a risk. A big one. He waited for her reaction, fully expecting to be pushed away and slapped across the face. His adrenaline coursed through him as he watched the corners of her mouth curve softly, and felt her hands slide gently up his arms. It was all he needed. He lowered his lips to hers slowly, and felt a thrill of lust and possession and eagerness as he caressed them gently with his own. He couldn't stop himself from pulling her into his arms as she began to explore the shape of his mouth. Burning, he deepened the kiss, and felt her hands trail from around his neck to rest upon his chest. He lifted a hand to caress her cheek before letting his fingers tangle in her hair. He was lost and he knew it. She felt amazing. It took every ounce of his willpower to pull his lips from hers. He didn't let go – couldn't even open his eyes. He simply held her close. Somehow, he couldn't look at her just yet. That might bring reality crashing back on them, and he just needed this moment to feel how her body melted into his embrace. Tomorrow he told himself he could deal with whatever happened if tonight he had given her his vote.

He knew he didn't have long now. She was moving in his arms, trying to look into his eyes. He took one last deep breath before opening them and looking down at her.

She looked scandalized.

"We can't do this," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. He still hadn't let go of her. She looked at him for a moment longer before looking away and shaking her head.

"You were right. I've got a boyfriend. People wouldn't just let me leave Ron… and when they found out it was _you_…" she was rambling.

He took a step back from her, dropping his arms to his sides.

"You would let _them_ make this decision _for_ you?"

"Don't you dare, Malfoy! Just because this is the first decision you've ever made for yourself doesn't give you the right to…"

"Excuse me?" He was immediately back to that brink of rage. She seemed to see it in his expression and fell silent. It took two deep breaths from him for that look to go away.

"What choice do I have?" she continued, softly pleading with him. She took his arm and pulled his sleeve back. "This is everything we've been fighting against for as long as we can remember."

His face seemed to twist in pain as he pulled the sleeve back down. His eyes were shining the same way they had been that first night. It was a look that begged someone to be on his side – to believe that he was telling the truth.

"I've been fighting longer than you have."

It was only a moment. She was able to see who he was only a moment at a time. And, one moment at a time, she felt herself falling. Her hand had reached out to take his, and she had taken a step closer to him again. But it was only a moment. Then he stepped away from her and years of his father's lessons took hold. His face became impassive – emotionless.

"Don't worry Granger," he said coolly, "We'll just go on as everyone _expects_ us to."

…………………..………………………………………………….

They all awoke before dawn the next morning. Harry, who had woken at the same time as Hermione, had left with Kreacher almost immediately to begin the rounds of the other Common Rooms. Ron had awoken grumpily when Hermione wasn't next to him. She was scratching away at some parchment at one of the nearby counters. When she saw Ron's movement, she discreetly shoved her work into a pocket and then continued scratching at the second parchment until he had come up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She had to force herself not to stiffen in his embrace.

"Why on earth are you up this early?" he asked drowsily.

"Just working out everything I know about Vanishing Cabinets…" she replied, distracted now that others were stretching and rubbing their eyes.

It wasn't the truth. She had been making a list, of course. Well, a comparison, really. She had started out with pros and cons. But she knew it was a waste of time. Soon she had turned the page sideways and was writing scenarios out in the margins. But realization had dawned on her soon enough and she had turned the page over and begun writing out the list of things that would have to happen _before_ she could break up with Ron. It didn't mean she _would_. And it certainly didn't mean that she would go running into a Death Eater's arms. But she was Hermione Granger. Her mother had always taught her to have Plan A, Plan B, Plan C and then Plans D through G just in case. She was on Plan F when Ron had woken up. Now she could feel Ron's entire body pressed against her own.

It was awkward for everyone in the kitchens as they watched Ron run his hands along her arms in a 'comforting' fashion before turning her around for a kiss.

Hermione's body finally rebelled against her pliant actions and avoided his lips by burying her face in his shoulder. But that didn't make her feel any better. She felt uncomfortable in his arms. She wanted to excuse herself – to be anywhere but here, but there was no where else to go. She heard the 'pop' that meant Kreacher was back with Harry. Suddenly she felt it. Something hard pressing into her thigh, and she knew she couldn't do this. She just couldn't.

"Hate to break up this disgusting little reunion but I'm leaving," Draco said standing up and walking toward Kreacher.

Relief washed over her as she pushed away from Ron, leaving him looking confused.

"Wait, I'm coming," she said, an edge of desperation in her voice.

"Where the bloody hell do you think you're going with _him_?" Ron demanded, his temper getting the best of him immediately.

"I'm helping him repair the Vanishing Cabinet in the Slytherin common room – I read up on them after sixth year," she said, running to catch up to Draco, who wouldn't look at her.

"Then I'm coming too," he said, still angry.

"No!" Hermione blinked when she realized how forcefully she had said it. "No, Ron, please… I need you to stay here… and work out the… contingency plans with Harry," she said fishing desperately.

Even Malfoy looked incredulously at her.

Harry, who was not as thick as some believed him to be, could see Hermione backpedaling. He stepped forward, grabbing Ron's arm and leading him to the counter they had set up with scribbled out facts and possible routes.

"Yeah, mate, you've seen more of the castle than us – we really need your input on this one," he said.

Ron glared at all parties involved but allowed himself to be pulled away. When he got to the counter, he turned to Malfoy.

"If you lay one bloody finger on her, Malfoy…" he said warningly, but Draco had strode up to him, meeting the challenge.

"You'll what? Run away again?" he sneered.

"Shut the hell up Malfoy!" Ron bellowed. "You have no bloody idea what you're talking about."

"You want to know who saved her life?" his voice was deathly quiet now. "You want to know who pulled her and your sister out of that mob after you fucking left?"

Ron was struck dumb by these words. He looked beseechingly at Harry who only nodded in confirmation of what he had said.

The two adversaries were locked in an angry staring competition. Hermione quickly put herself between the two of them.

"Stop it!" she said, looking at Ron. "Both of you," she turned to Draco. The anger left his face as soon as his eyes met hers and she had to look away.

"There's no time for this," she continued. "We've got to go."

"Hermione…" Ron said, fumbling for words. "Look, I… I said I was sorry."

He tried to take her hands into his, but she pulled away, looking at the floor.

"I need time, Ron," she said, knowing that no amount of time in the world could make her feel the way she once had about him.

She saw a flash of anger pass over his face before he turned away from her.

She looked up at Draco, whose gaze hadn't left her yet.

"Let's go," she said.

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	10. A Broken Flower

**A/N: WARNING WARNING WARNING - THIS IS A DARK CHAPTER. Please do not read if you are sensitive to violence. **

**Otherwise, thank you, as always, for reading, and thank you for the wonderful reviews!  
**

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**Chapter 10**

**A Broken Flower  
**

Fleur Weasley was crouched in a corner of the Ravenclaw common room. Tears streamed across her marred face. She had a single thought playing in her mind. _If the creatures hadn't attacked, he would have killed me. _But it wasn't a thought of gratitude, it was one of anguish and despair. Gods, how she wished for death. How could her husband want her now?

It all began to play out in her mind again, unbidden of course. Flashes of a dark-haired man. When she had felt the stunning spell connect with her hip, she expected that the green light would follow immediately, and braced herself for the nothingness that awaited. It didn't come. This man knew better than to kill. He knew that death would be a heroic end to a dedicated fight for _good_.

Unable to struggle, she had felt herself dragged into a nearby room where she was horrified to see two other… she _thought_ they were females, but they had no hair… and their features were so horribly wrecked…

"A _Veela_, is it?" The man had leered over her. She couldn't even be sure he was a Death Eater. If he was, he lacked all outward appearances of one. She watched, aghast, as he adjusted himself conspicuously, showing the pleasure he found in his new catch.

Even if she wasn't immobile from the spell, she was sure she'd be too frozen by disgust and fear to run. She had never encountered this type of evil before. This was a different evil than she had been trained to fight.

"We'll just get started then, shall we?" he said, smiling lewdly at her.

Suddenly, she wasn't afraid of death anymore. _Gods, please just let him kill me_, she had pleaded in her mind. _Please don't let him touch me._

He aimed his wand at her head and muttered something under his breath. She felt an immense burning sensation throughout her scalp, and was horrified to feel her hair falling out in clumps.

"So pretty…" he had said, cocking his head to one side. And then he said the word she had been praying he wouldn't think of.

"Imperio."

She could feel herself stand up, and then suddenly felt an incredible desire to inflict pain on herself. She began scratching violently at her skin with her long fingernails, and hurling herself against the stone walls. She clawed at the few very few patches of her golden hair that had withstood the spell and began ripping it out.

It was an ironic sort of relief that flowed through her when she realized that he wanted to torture her before… well, before anything else.

He seemed to become bored and stunned her once again before releasing her from the imperio. She crumpled to the ground, facing up. Everything hurt. She was sure the entire left side of her body was badly bruised from her actions, and her nails had connected with more of her skin than she thought it was possible to reach. The worst pain came from her bleeding, tender head. She still couldn't move. She didn't even know where her wand was. Still out in the hallway, perhaps? Her heart began pounding in her chest when she saw him pull a knife from his robes and move toward her.

Sitting in the common room, she shook her head violently to clear away the next memories, cradling her unrecognizable face and bald head gently in her hands. Someone was walking toward her again. The other three wouldn't leave her alone. They kept insisting that she let them heal her smaller injuries and tell them her name. She hadn't yet spoken to them. Instead she glared threateningly at them, brandishing her wand. She didn't want to be healed. If she was ugly, maybe Bill would just leave her be.

…………………………………………………………………………..

It was still dark out when they heard a pop that could only mean apparition. They all gripped their wands, as a precaution, but were immediately relieved to see the hero himself, Harry Potter walking up to them.

"We knew you had lived," said a younger boy who later introduced himself as Stewart Ackerley.

"Are you here to get us out?" asked Anthony Goldstein.

"How many others are alive?" demanded an unfriendly looking older girl Harry recognized as Penelope Clearwater.

Harry was well into the details of all he knew before he saw movement in one of the corners.

"Who is _he_?" he asked them.

"We're pretty sure it's _she_," replied Anthony grimly. "And we don't know who she is. She won't talk to us. She's hurt pretty bad… no, Harry, don't try getting close, she shot a hex at me yesterday for that… no one here recognizes her."

Harry looked at her form uncertainly for a few moments before approaching cautiously. When he was a few feet away, he saw blue light shoot from the tip of her wand and barely got up a shield in time to deflect it.

"Alright, I'll leave you alone," he grumbled at her. "But at least tell me if you heard everything I told them – I want everyone to know what's going on."

She still wouldn't look at him, but she nodded her head slowly.

"Can we count on you to help us fight if it's necessary?"

This time she did look at him. Her blue eyes shone with a ferocity that surprised him and she nodded vigorously. The shape of her face seemed vaguely familiar, but both her eyes were black, her face and neck had been… _Gods…_sliced? None of it was life-threatening – none of the cuts were deep, but it was a terrifying picture nonetheless. Her eyes – maybe that's what was familiar. He could see from the way she was crouched that she had a small frame. Suddenly a glint caught his eye. There was something on her left hand. A ring. _Oh Gods…_he had a theory now, but the thought of someone he knew with injuries like hers sickened him.

He turned back around to the others, almost dizzy.

"I've got Hufflepuff left – I'm off now."

Before he apparated away with Kreacher, he pulled Anthony aside.

"What happened to her?" Harry asked him in a voice that was deathly quiet.

"Something worse than bad," Anthony said running a hand across his eyes, as though trying to wipe a memory away. "I'm the one who saw her crawling in the hallway on my way here. I had to give her my robe because… because hers was… _gone_."

"_Fucking hell_," Harry said bristling and cringing all at once. If anyone ever dared to touch Ginny… he was immediately filled with rage. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Keep trying to heal her – even if you have to do it while she's asleep," he told Anthony. "I'll be coming around again tomorrow."

…………………………………………………………………………….

Draco had been the first to apparate with Kreacher into the Slytherin common room. He was relieved to find it empty. After a cursory search of the dormitories turned up nothing of concern, he located the Cabinet and began to cast wards on the area around it. Hermione had still been arguing with… _him_ when he left - he was damned if he'd wait around for them to finish. She arrived a few minutes later. She joined him in setting up the wards as Kreacher moved off to a corner of the room to sleep. It seemed to be his favorite… his _only_ pastime.

The first hour was spent examining the damaged Cabinet. They had found it turned on its side. Both doors had been wrenched off and trampled, and the body of the Cabinet itself was scratched and splintered in many places. If it were a normal wardrobe or something non-magical, it would have been all too easy to get it in good order again. But this was a Vanishing Cabinet. It required more than just repair. It required the equivalent of magical healing.

After taking extensive notes about everything from its condition to its size, the two sat silently on a battered couch, analyzing the situation. It was remarkable that they had been able to hold off coherent conversation up to this point. Now it would be inevitable.

"Do you think you could make a list of the spells you used last time?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," he replied unenthusiastically. The entire experience of 'last time' was one he had tried again and again to put behind him.

After a few more minutes of silence between them, Hermione spoke again.

"Do you suppose we should get back to the kitchens now?" she asked.

"So eager to get back?" _To him_? The last bit hung unspoken in the air, but he knew she had heard it in his tone.

She sighed and sunk back into the cushions.

"They'll worry about us if we're gone much longer," she said wearily.

"They'll worry about _you_," he spat back.

He looked at her appraisingly for a moment. With that, he got up and moved to the corner where Kreacher was sleeping.

"Take her back," he said to the elf. "I'm quite enjoying myself without them."

Kreacher moved to stand next to her but she told him that Malfoy was only kidding, and to go back to sleep for a while longer. The elf grumbled his way back to the corner before lying down again. She moved to stand in front of Malfoy, hands on her hips.

"We need to stick together, Malfoy."

"Funny, you've not been enthusiastic on _that_ point," he shot back at her.

She rolled her eyes before continuing.

"Blaise would think I'd killed you or something and left you here."

"He's not as dense as _your_ friends, Granger," he sneered, "He's seen us together and knows better."

"What?"

Damn it. Why had he said that?

"When?"

"It doesn't matter," he replied defensively. "He just thinks I wanted to get off with you – same as he did with that Brown girl."

"And that _is_ all you want, isn't it?" her voice had raised by degrees in the last few sentences.

He moved angrily to stand inches away from her.

"And what if it was? What the hell do you care?"

Damn it. Why had he said that?

The hurt was evident in her eyes. She reached up to slap him, but he caught her by the wrist and wouldn't let go.

"You bastard! You haven't changed at all!" she cried in fury. "And I was the only one foolish enough to think that you had!"

She turned to leave but he still had hold of her wrist. She glared at him, daring him not to let go.

"Just explain to me how you can let that Weasel _touch_ you, Granger. Tell me how you do it, and I'll let go."

She looked up at him, taken aback.

"It's none of your business," she said weakly.

"How?" he had yanked her closer by the wrist.

"Why does it matter to you?" she asked hopefully.

"Oh, no no – you first," he said.

"I told you before. I can't just break up with him. I owe it to him to…"

"What the fuck do you owe him, Hermione? He fucking _left_ you there!"

His use of her name crept into a place deep inside of her, giving her a boldness she couldn't have possessed otherwise.

"Then _tell_ me what you want. Tell me why I should walk away from a safe bet."

She looked at him challengingly.

"Will you stay with me once we're out of here? Are you honestly going to take me home and introduce me to your parents? Am I to believe that you'll make the trip into a muggle-_infested_ world to meet _my_ family? Be serious, Draco. Could you face the world with a Mudblood next to you?"

They were all questions on the list in her pocket.

He released her wrist and simply stared at her. She still looked as though she was challenging him, but there was something more in her expression now. It was a mixture of hope and despair… of faith and skepticism.

"The war is over now…" he said lamely, knowing it didn't answer _any_ of her questions.

The look he got in response told him she saw through it.

"What do you want from _me_?" he asked wearily. "I don't even know if my parents are _alive_, let alone how they would react to _anyone_ I brought home."

She wasn't backing down.

"And my other questions?" she asked, not breaking eye contact.

"We're not even fucking _together_. Like you said, you've still got a boyfriend! I won't be the only one that's going out on a bloody limb here!"

"What if we _were_ together?"

His eyes traveled from her eyes down to her lips longingly, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her again. She closed her eyes in anticipation, waiting to feel the pressure of his lips.

"Ask me again when we _are_," he said, walking away from her, making it clear that he was done with their conversation.

…………………………………………………………………………….

When Hermione had left with Malfoy, the others settled in for another day of waiting. Harry, still shaken to the core by what he had seen, went immediately to Ginny, wrapping his arms around her possessively. He kissed her deeply, running his fingers through her shining hair and across her beautiful face. He broke the kiss, holding her close.

"I love you," he said softly.

He had said it before, but Ginny wasn't prepared for it this time. This time there was so much behind his tone and expression that she felt lightheaded for a moment. Something was wrong – he was holding onto her desperately.

"Harry, what is it?"

"Tell me you love me," he said, burying his face in her hair again.

She pulled back to look searchingly into his eyes. Her hand traveled up to rest against his neck, and she felt his arms tighten around her protectively.

"I love you," she said, not breaking eye contact. He pulled her to his chest again.

"Harry?" she ventured once more.

"I think I found Fleur," he said as she felt a shudder run through him.

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**This chapter took a lot to write - please review.  
**


	11. Warmth in the Darkness

**A/N: Thank you sooo much for reading! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed - I can't tell you what a lift it gives me!**

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**Chapter 11**

**Warmth in the Darkness**

Bill Weasley was having trouble breathing. Harry was sitting just across from him graciously looking in another direction while Ginny tried to whisper soothing things and rubbed his back in gentle circles. Parvati was doing her best not to eavesdrop in the silence, but the news of Fleur had very obviously affected her too.

The common room was no brighter than the kitchen. Bricks and books and rubble had been magicked into place over where the great window should have been, and the doors to all the dormitories had been sealed and warded shut, for fear of flying creatures. A fire posed the risk of them tracing the source of the smoke, so they had sealed the fireplace as well. Now they all sat huddled together in the near darkness.

Bill knew better than most what had caused the creatures to attack. He had felt it too.

_It was very like a weak 'imperio,' if such a thing existed. Fenrir Greyback's attack upon him suddenly had more of an effect than creating cravings for rare meat. He felt drawn to attack the group of students he was ushering toward the Room of Requirement. The urge was suppressed with some effort, but he had a sudden understanding of everything that was about to happen. He knew in that moment that the only thing that mattered now was getting to Fleur. _

_Taller than most, he was able to scan the mob in the Room of Requirement quickly before summoning a broom to his aid. He had been able to make a cursory sweep of the first few floors before he could hear the stamping of their feet. He simply didn't have the time to check in the classrooms, but then his wife wasn't the kind to be hiding in a room alone – she was a Tri-Wizard champion, for Merlin's sake. He made it to the sixth floor before he could see the creatures flooding onto the staircases of the lower floors. He had just started on the seventh floor when he heard the agonized screaming of those who had survived only to be killed by this unknown wave of enemies._

_In desperation he had looked around for any sign of that shining gold hair that belonged only to his Fleur. In vain, his gaze had torn at every sign of movement. He knew he was nearing the Gryffindor Common Room, but he had been determined not to stop until he had found her. He remembered latching onto that determination as he craned his neck around for the hundredth time, looking for any sign of his wife. He had a faint notion of extreme pain before darkness engulfed him._

_When he had woken an hour later, it was inside of the Common Room with Parvati standing over him, muttering healing spells, and Ron sitting close by, looking utterly shaken. In his reckless flying, with his eyes on anything but the air in front of him, he had crunched sickeningly into a low archway just in front of the Fat Lady's portrait._

Yes, he knew what had caused them to attack. But what demon would dare touch the woman he loved? He had never before experienced that thrill of battle he had heard described by others in the Order. He had never ached for the challenge of a duel. He had never been a violent man, by nature. Now, he felt his control slipping, if it was control. He could still feel that impulse at the back of his mind to attack humanity. This time it was directed – all of it – toward a single monster… a man driven by the darkest, most evil... He had to force himself to calm down. It wouldn't do to lose control now. Fleur still needed him.

"But she's alright?" he finally managed ask through his clenched jaw.

Harry looked back at him, running a hand through his messy hair.

"She will be," he said in what he hoped was a confident voice.

When Bill's stare hadn't left him, he sighed and continued.

"I mean it's shite what happened to her. She won't let herself be healed," he intoned sadly. "She won't speak to anyone. They say she hasn't eaten since the attack. When I tried to get close enough to look at her injuries, she sent a hex at me."

"Harry!" Ginny shot a disapproving look in his direction. He didn't care if she thought he should soften the blow. If it had been him sitting there waiting to hear what happened to her, he would have held whatever unfortunate messenger had come at wandpoint until he knew everything.

"Injuries?"

Again, Harry braced himself to give the brutal news.

"She's…. she's a little hard to recognize. She has… well… all her hair is gone… and… she's… well her face is… cut. Some bruises… eyes and such…"

Bill swallowed hard. Twice.

"Take me to her," he said firmly.

"Bill…" it was Ginny. "You should give her some time…"

"How long, Gin? Until she starves? Until she finds out I'm alive but I haven't gone to her? Take me to her now."

Harry nodded contemplatively a couple times before going to Kreacher and a younger-looking house elf.

"Take us to the Ravenclaw Common Room. Ginny, stay here with Parvati – we'll be back soon."

………………………………………………………………………………….

"For the last time, Ronald, we cannot move the cabinet here!"

Hermione looked flushed with frustration and flat out anger. But she didn't get it. He needed _something_… This was his moment to win himself some credit. Malfoy had saved her and Ginny. Harry had helped them all to escape. Zabini had helped cast the wards around the kitchens. Neville had been a source of friendship and comfort to everyone. Terry… well… Terry had been a good Devil's Advocate. So now it was time for him to show that he was useful too.

"That's shite Hermione, and you know it," he replied defiantly. "Why shouldn't Kreacher be able to move the bloody cabinet here? He can transport _people_ – that's got to be harder."

It was a stupid thing to say. Immediately bits of old lectures began gnawing at his mind… something about living things consisting of one continuous mass and inanimate objects being the sum of several different pieces. He remembered one professor telling a child's tale to illustrate the point. It had some silly moral…. "be prepared" or "attention to detail" or some such nonsense. In the tale, a careless man set out to convince a country he was their king. He eventually won the hearts of the peasants, making grand speeches and sweeping promises from the steps of an abandoned castle. His scheme accomplished, he hastily apparated his meager furniture into the palace. Because he had worked too quickly, three of the screws in his dinner chair had been left behind, and he was stabbed through the heart as the chair collapsed from his weight. Ron hated that story. He couldn't see why the king didn't just order the peasants to bring him new furniture as a show of loyalty or something.

He could see Hermione preparing to lecture him on the process and theory of apparition, and prepared to roll his eyes in response to the know-it-all-ness she was so prone to.

"Fuck, mate," replied Zabini wearily, "How thick are you?"

He hadn't been prepared for someone else to use this opportunity to "educate" him.

"Shut the hell up you snake!"

"You're talking about a fucking _magical_ item that's been broken apart is being put back together by _magic_."

"I said shut up!"

"If one fucking splinter is missing from that thing, it'll never work. Do you fucking _understand_ the principles of apparition? You want to break it down into its magical elements and hope it appears on the other side in one fucking piece?"

Ron could feel himself losing credibility. In an attempt to silence the Slytherin, he shot a hex that would cause Zabini's lips to fuse together.

"Protego," Hermione countered, and the hex bounced harmlessly off the shield.

He thought he saw Zabini give her a disgusted look before stalking off to sit with Malfoy.

Hermione's eyes followed his retreating figure with a confused gaze, but when she saw Malfoy, she looked away and her eyes had focused back on his.

"He's right," she said, but now others had picked up threads of conversation, leaving the two of them to their own argument. "We can't risk moving it."

He stomped closer to her, angrily.

"Why the hell don't you ever stand up for me anymore?"

"If you had better arguments, you wouldn't need me to."

"Oh, that's right. You're the genius-who-never-gets-ANYTHING-wrong. You're so bloody irritating when you act like this."

"Gosh, Ron, I would hate to think I was ever irritating you," she said sarcastically.

This wasn't working. Usually, she would have backed down by now, become the peacemaker and said something along the lines of "let's just move on, shall we?" It was time for something drastic. He knew it was harsh, but he'd have to give her an ultimatum – it would force her into a compromise.

"You know what, Hermione? If this is how it's going to be between us, maybe we'd be better off alone for now."

He hated to have to scare her like this, but now she would back down.

She just looked at him for a moment with an emotion he couldn't quite identify.

_Right where I want her,_ he thought triumphantly.

"Alone then," she said firmly. "That's what you want, yes?"

_What?_

"'Course," he scowled at her. She nodded once and walked away from him.

_What the hell was that? Hermione never knew how to bluff… now what? Calm – just be calm – she'll be back. She just wanted me to be the first to cave… not gonna do it… not gonna… as soon as she sees how bad it is without anyone… she hates not having anyone… never has had anyone…_

He remembered those first couple of years at Hogwarts. She would come back from Summer holiday or from Christmas with her family and would tell about the happy times she had – how homesick she would be. But things had changed at some point. He was damned if he actually remembered the details or even the year it had all begun, but she just stopped talking about her family after a while. She would still go into happy childhood memories every so often, but none of them were recent.

She had finally let slip something about her parents. She used the word 'divorts.' She had had to explain that it meant the dissolution of marriage vows. The idea had been completely foreign to him coming from the family he had, and he had almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all, but Harry had caught his attention and had given him a threatening look. She had told them she moved her parents to Australia to keep them safe, but she had only recently divulged the moral entanglement she would be faced with when she went to lift the enchantments. After all, she had put her parents together again. It was surely something they wouldn't thank her for later. A year of humiliating memories for her parents to look back on.

More than anything, he believed that Hermione was afraid of ending up like her mum – alone. It was his confidence in this that made him sure she'd be back. He just needed to play this off. She'd be back.

………………………………………………………………………………..

When Bill caught the first glimpse of his wife, he had to fight to appear composed. She looked as though she had been healed to _some_ extent. Her face looked… almost lined… due to several red marks… _Merlin, those must have been the cuts…_ Her face when she saw him was one of shock and shame.

"Aucun Guillame, veuillez ne partir."  
_No Bill, please leave._

"Je ne partirai pas. Je ne peux pas partir. Pas sans toi."  
_I won't leave. I can't leave. Not without you. _

"Si je te disais la vérité vous me laisseriez."  
_If I told you the truth you would leave me._

"La vérité ne peut pas me blesser."  
_The truth can't hurt me._

"Vous avez tort. La vérité est la seule chose qui peut vous blesser."_  
You're wrong. It's the only thing that can._

Tears had begun to stream down her face, unchecked.

_  
_"Je t'aime, Fleur. Rien n'a pu changer cela."_  
I love you, Fleur. Nothing could change that._

"Vous ne me voulez pas, Guillame. Je ne suis pas… Je ne suis pas propre."  
_You don't want me, Bill. I'm not… I'm not clean._

At this, he dropped to his knees beside her, still not daring to touch her.

"Fleur… Je sais ce qui s'est produit… ce n'était pas votre défaut…"_  
Fleur… I know what happened… it wasn't your fault._

Her eyes snapped frantically to his, questioning him.

"Je vous ai dit. Je t'aime. Rien n'a pu changer cela. Rien._"  
I told you. I love you. Nothing could change that. Nothing._

"Vous ne pouvez pas m'aimer. Pas après ce qui s'est produit"_  
Bill, you can't love me. Not after what happened. _

"Je s¸aurois maugré vous et voz complexions, je vous aimerai."_  
In spite of yourself, against your will, I will love you._

He reached his hand out and tentatively caressed her cheek. She heaved one great sob before falling forward into his arms.

"But I am 'ideous"

He looked at her tenderly before chuckling softly.

"There was a time my family thought you'd rather not marry me because of _my_ looks."

She looked at him warmly, remembering how much she wanted him to know she still loved him.

"Don't worry, Love, I am good-looking enough for us both, I theenk," he said imitating her accent with a wry smile.

His chest tightened as he saw the loveliness of her face. Her mouth was curved into a soft smile.

"How can you think you're not beautiful?" he breathed.

He pulled her closer, protectively, vowing never to let her go again.

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**"I am good-looking enough for us both, I theenk" is a direct quote from HBP. Fluer's loyalty is questioned after Bill is attacked by the werewolf, and she reasserts her love for him.**

**Thank you again for reading and please review!!**


	12. I Could Love You

**I apologize for the severe delay of this story – I lost someone very close to me and am just now beginning to turn once more to writing as a source of solace.**

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**Chapter 12**

**I Could Love You**

Draco was in total and utter shock as he watched his rival give up freely that which he meant to fight for. To see Weasley's behavior was astonishing, and he could only guess that it was meant as some form of scare-tactic. He watched, almost giddy, as Hermione called what he assumed was Weasley's bluff. The red-head stumbled over his heroics as he received the answer he had not been expecting, and sauntered off confusedly. The others in the room, though feigning ignorance, each took the new development differently. Weaselette quirked an enquiring, though not disapproving, eyebrow; Potter rolled his eyes silently as he realized the direction Weasley was walking; the Brown girl, as a nice change of pace, glared at everyone in general; Boot and Zabini had the gall to look at Hermione – the first one hopefully, the second, opportunistically; and Longbottom… well, actually he was staring off into space and probably _had_ been the only one not to hear to whole of it.

Draco turned his attention from the others back to Hermione and found her looking down with something close to amazement on her face. Her mouth tugged ever so slightly up at the corners, though her lips were pressed firmly together. He caught her eye for the briefest of moments and watched as her sparkling eyes darkened. She didn't know – she couldn't – how her questions had affected him. Of course she was still angry with his lack of assurances.

Hermione, by this time, had gathered everyone's 'pretending not to react' reactions and stalked toward Draco, calling Kreacher sharply as she did. _To the Vanishing Cabinet_ he thought triumphantly as he realized what the time alone could mean. In reality, the Cabinet was very near completion, and would need much less of their time than anyone suspected. According to habit, Draco was apparated first. He waited, with a tingling expectation and apprehension that bordered on mischief. When she appeared, facing away from him, he almost laughed nervously before he began to close the distance between them.

"Don't think for a moment that I did that for you, because if you can't have the decency to be sure about wanting me around after all of this is said and done…"

She had begun talking before she had fully turned around. When she saw him so close, something in his expression had stopped her mid-sentence.

A half-second more and he had swept her into his arms. His lips sought hers with such confidence in her response that she could not help but to melt into him. Draco was so completely lost in her that it was only with the greatest difficulty that his lips left hers for moments at a time to speak haltingly.

"I don't know how…"

His lips found hers again for a longer interval than the unfinished statement should have allowed.

"Hermione I've known you most of my life but… "

Her lips crashed down on his this time, demanding the reassurance each kiss gave.

"…but I don't know how this happened…"

Their frantic lips met again, seeking to express more than desire. It was Draco who broke away at last, breathing heavily, trying wholeheartedly to control himself.

"…Hermione…" he breathed shakily, pulling her close and resting his head gently atop hers.

"… I don't know how, but I need this," he spoke softly, hesitantly, as though asking permission to break her apart slowly.

"It is against every rule, every wish of my family to need someone like you. I don't pretend that they would ever approve of you… in fact my father would most likely kill you if you walked through his door…"

He could feel her stiffening in his embrace and shook his head slowly from side to side, willing her to understand what he was trying to say. But before anything else, she must understand his position fully.

"Death awaits you from my family… and I can't think I'd ever _want_ to venture amongst muggles."

She could feel him shaking his head slowly and the warmth surrounding her was suddenly gone.

"So you _couldn't_ go through life with a Mudblood by your side after all," her voice cracked – it was more of a question but it had sounded like a fact from her lips. She could feel him tremble ever so softly as her tone sunk into him.

"…Hermione… it would be _you_. I could go through life if it was you. I would run with you as far away from my family as I could. I could protect you from them. _I could love you._ Maybe far away from here with no one to judge… you… _you_ could…"

Her heart struggled against her chest as he stumbled over that word.

"…but I couldn't ask you to live your life on the run – to never be near family or friends. I'm a wanted man on both fronts now, I think."

He could hear Hermione preparing to deny the light side's intentions for him.

"I will be if I take you," he said gravely. "If you think for a moment that Weasley or Potter or any of the group in there would believe you weren't under some inducement…"

"Don't be ridiculous – we'll have to try…"

"Weasley will try to kill us both, which would be no large obstacle if you would simply let me kill him firs…"

"Draco Malfoy if you think they wouldn't be after you once you tried that!"

"Did you expect me to play nice with him after everything…"

And she couldn't help but kiss him again, slowly and pleadingly and methodically. He broke away, irritated.

"That is the first and the last time that you will use a kiss in defense of anyone, especially the ass I had to watch put his hands you," Draco growled fiercely. "I do not enjoy being manipulated, despite my exposure to it."

She was speechless, having realized the full implications of her gesture. Achingly sorry, she reached up on her tip toes and placed soft, lingering kisses along his jaw, leading slowly to his mouth. She hesitated when she reached his lips, looking repentantly into his eyes. She felt his body relax before she let her lips drift gently across his.

A warm blush rose to her cheeks, and she couldn't meet his gaze as she mumbled aloud what she had wanted to hear him say.

"I could love you too. I could love you here, in front of them, and they would have to see that it was real."

She looked up at him past the glow in her cheeks, and saw his wondering gaze.

There was suddenly too much he wanted to say that he knew he shouldn't – not yet. Promises and hopes and affectionate words would have their time now. Merlin knew he hadn't meant to feel this way for her. It was against all reason that his response was so strong in such a short time, and against all odds that she should respond in kind. The questions he wanted to ask her now would not be appropriate – there were other much more pressing questions, so he began with the most obvious.

"What shall we do when we get back?"

"I think it would be best to tell them quickly – to give them time to get used to the idea – and it would be only prudent to have Kreacher ready to take you back at a moment's notice."

"Brilliant – I've got a plan, but you'll have to trust me."

"I don't – not with this. You'll probably just show up next to me and begin kissing me the way you did here."

Silence.

"That was seriously your plan??"

"Think about it, Hermione – they wouldn't believe words and you turn logical the moment you're faced with conflict (Hermione huffed) and there's just nothing logical about us, so you'd be standing there dumbstruck (here she glared) and I'd have to kiss you anyhow."

"You just want to rub it in Ron's face!"

"Yeah, you're right, I do," he said turning absolutely serious. "I want him to understand that there is no way I'll allow him to touch you ever again. If I _told_ him you were mine, he'd just bluster about, try to hex me, and then try to get his filthy arms about you, probably with the support of the others. I'd much prefer to _show_ him."

"Maybe we should just go back to how we're _supposed_ to act for now," Hermione said, rubbing her temples wearily.

"Right, so we'll just go back, pretend to hate each other, and then I won't be able to keep my hands off of you when you're lying right next to me the entire night. Great plan."

"At least we could introduce the idea a bit more gradually," she persisted. "We could start acting friendly – gain their trust about it…"

He sighed.

"Do you know what it will do to me to see you chased after by Weasley? Do you know what it will be like to stand by as Boot and Zabini try their luck at _consoling_ you? No one would dare come near you if they knew the claim I had to you…" his voice was dangerous, possessive, frustrated to such a degree that she was at a loss. She decided to take mercy on his tortured state.

"Then we'll go back and play it all by ear. If anyone tries to _console_ me, especially Ron, it will be as good a time as any for us to make a statement…"

Draco blinked. A compromise… for him. No one in his family, not even his mother, had ever given in, even partially to his wishes. He felt at once guilty and exultant. Not wanting to rejoin the others yet, and feeling a renewed rush of affection for her, he pulled Hermione over to the battered couch and laid down with her, holding her closely. Her eyes swept across his face, and a small, soft hand reached up to touch the scar that had formed over his eyebrow. Her hand lingered across his brow, caressed his face, and found its way down to his left arm. He didn't mind her fingers upon the tortured skin there anymore. He found that it soothed him.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. Neither had she. But the warmth of the embrace and relative darkness had set them both at ease, as Draco listened to her gentle breathing and she, in turn, felt for the rhythmic beat of his heart against her cheek.

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**Thank you for reading and Please review. Another chapter is receiving finishing touches and will be up in a day or two.**


	13. Secrets and Lies

**A/N: Thank you for reading. I decided this chapter might as well go up too - it will help with the flow of the story.**

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**Chapter 13**

**Secrets and Lies**

They must have been sleeping deeply, indeed, not to hear the 'pop' that meant Kreacher had been called away by his master, or the second 'pop' as he reappeared with Harry in tow.

It was Harry's low, brooding voice that startled Draco awake.

"No, Kreacher, stay here. Ron doesn't need to be here."

Draco's eyes shot open to see the intruder glaring dangerously at him. He spared one glance to check that Hermione was still sleeping before maneuvering himself carefully out from under her.

Harry's first reaction had been shock, to see his friend entangled with their former arch-enemy. It was an hour past the usual time of their return, and of all the scenes he had been dreading, this one had certainly not formed in his mind. His shock was turned to confusion almost immediately as he saw Malfoy open his eyes, look… was it _warmly_? at Hermione, and then cradle her gently as he shifted himself off of the couch. He was also not so senseless as to fail to see Hermione's sleeping face form a bereft look at his absence.

He continued to stare at Malfoy in disbelief when he saw him motion toward the far side of the room. He knew something had been off about her, although he couldn't attribute her sudden aversion to Ron to anything more than his actions the night of the attack. Alright, if he admitted it to himself, he had seen the Malfoy and Hermione on much better terms after the attack than he had ever imagined possible, but he figured she just needed time, not that she had been fraternizing with the enemy. Ron would explode on the spot. As it was, he'd be furious for not bringing him along as he said he would. At that thought, he turned to Kreacher and gave him a few brief commands.

"Tell the others that all is well – tell them there's a breakthrough with the Cabinet. Do not repeat anything you've seen, and do not bring anyone back with you."

Kreacher bowed and popped away.

When he reached Malfoy, he stalked through a tingling sensation that must have meant a silencing spell. _Good_ he thought _I can yell at the bastard without waking Hermione._

It was a moment before either of them spoke.

"What… the… hell?!" was all Harry could manage to stammer out.

Draco ran a hand through his now-tousled hair and took a deep breath before answering.

"It started when Weasley left her there that night of the attacks," he said in a low voice.

Harry knew it shouldn't have comforted him, but he was relieved to know one of his best friends had not been cheating on the other.

Malfoy looked like he didn't know what to say next. He stared at his feet and mumbled the next few lines.

"She found out I never wanted this (here he ran a hand over his sleeve). She believed me… she's the first one to trust me in a long..."

"And what? You took advantage of the situation? I guess if I go back over it all... I can see her liking you in a pitying, sympathetic sort of way, but what about _you_? If you're using her, I _swear_..."

"Fuck off, Potter," he replied fiercely.

"If you're not using her, than what? I mean... you and Hermione? That has got to be against rules and plans and everything good and right in the world."

"Fuck your rules and plans, Potter. And in case you hadn't noticed, there isn't a whole fucking lot good and right in this world just now."

"But she's just a _mudblood_ to you! You're telling me that all just went away? Pretty damned convenient if you ask me."

"I didn't."

"Damn it, Malfoy! I'm asking _you_! What the hell are you doing with her?"

"Saint Potter, always so fucking righteous," he muttered under his breath.

Harry watched as Draco took a few breaths to steel himself.

"You know I hate telling you this," he ground out. "You know what it costs me to confide in you, but it'll be worth it if you believe me."

Harry heard the build up to a confession and braced himself, but he still wasn't prepared for the absolute sincerity and determination in Malfoy's face.

"I... love her."

Harry took a step back, shaking his head once more in disbelief.

"You know I'm telling the truth - you can _see_ it," he said, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

In the end, it was Harry's face that betrayed his belief, and Draco, inclining his head slightly, began to think over what this new turn of events could mean.

Just then, Kreacher popped back into the room, causing Hermione to stir.

"By the way Potter, you've just become part of our plan to break it to the others – including Weasley."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Malfoy was across the room in three strides, and Harry's stomach turned over unpleasantly as she smiled at the man she should have been scowling at. She suddenly became quite pale.

"How long have I been asleep?! It must be midday by now! The others will think you've killed me!"

"They think there's been a breakthrough with the Cabinet," Harry said dully.

Hermione jumped immediately at the sound of his voice and turned to face him. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he decided to take pity on her dumbstruck appearance.

"I already know," he said irritably. "Malfoy told me he loves you."

At this, he saw Malfoy clap a hand to his forehead and heard him mutter.

"Bugger it all, Potter, we hadn't gotten that far just yet."

He looked at Hermione's glowing face turn first to him and then to Malfoy, and he couldn't stand it. He stomped dramatically to the couch and threw himself down on it.

"You had better have a plan, because I sure as hell don't know what to do about this."

Hermione threw herself at Potter, much to Draco's disgust, thanking him over and over for understanding. Potter, for his part, seemed just as disgusted by this gesture, peeling away from her.

"Do you have any idea what you've done, Hermione?" he asked incredulously. "You've very likely broken up a friendship that has lasted over seven years and you've put me in the middle – not to mention Ginny and all your other friends. You're going to make people choose sides here."

"Draco is on _our_ side."

"You're making them choose between Ron's friendship and yours. And I don't want to be harsh, but Ron doesn't come as a package deal with a Death Eater."

Hermione looked devastated as the Death Eater in question glared at him.

"This is why we need to get away – from _everyone_," Malfoy said resolutely.

"Now hold up a minute," Harry said angrily. "I may not be happy about all of this, but you're not about to take her _anywhere_, do you understand?"

Malfoy glared challengingly at him and he knew he had to try a different approach.

"I would try to help if I knew how to make this better for _anyone!_" he said bleakly.

"How?" Malfoy had the indecency to ask.

"How the hell should I know? Ron's been in love with her for seven bloody years. You don't just come back from something like that!"

"He left her to die, forgave himself against her will, and then broke up with her!" Malfoy yelled angrily.

Harry shook his head.

"He won't forgive you for this. He'll hate you forever, Malfoy – and he'll love her longer… if only out of spite."

His tone turned softer as he looked at his friend - pleading.

"Why, Hermione? Why him?"

"Harry... you know I don't love Ron. You of all people must have been able to tell."

Malfoy could only watch as Harry took her by the hand and led her to the silencing spell from their earlier conversation.

"But why him? Hermione, you don't have to do this - don't get attached to him just because... Look, if he's as reformed as he says he is, he doesn't need you. Don't you get it? It could have been anyone... he would have latched onto anyone..."

Potter was speaking in low, determined tones, and he could just make out his string of reasoning before the sound disappeared from his moving lips.

Despite everything, Draco was terrified. Could he talk her out of feeling anything for him? He forced himself to think about the scenario Potter was presenting. Was he right? Would he have fallen for anyone that had believed in him? Trusted him? _No_ he told himself. It was true that very few people _had_ given him the benefit of the doubt, but if all it took was trust in him, why hadn't he fallen for Pansy? She believed him when he said he had never killed anyone and never wanted to. She would have loved him if he had given her the chance. There was something more about Hermione. He needed _her_ - just her - everything about her. He couldn't have explained why - it wasn't as though he had planned to need _anyone_. But really it wasn't fair. He should put Potter on trial and ask exactly why he thought Ginny Weasley was the girl for him.

Draco glanced over to the two soundless figures, and satisfied himself from their body language that Hermione was still very much his.

He sat down on the corner of a battered end table and rubbed his head wearily, if only to pass the seconds without staring blatantly at the pantomime across from him.

If it came down to it, he really _was_ on trial here - with nothing but circumstantial evidence.

He looked again to see her considering something very carefully, and was on his feet in a moment.

If Potter _could_ talk her out of everything, he didn't know how he would go about proving anything to her. The only thing he could think of was persistence. If he could prove to her that he simply wouldn't let go until she gave him a chance... How could it have come to a contingency plan so quickly? Ten minutes ago, he'd had his arms around the girl he was falling in love with. Now...

"That's all I ask, Hermione, promise me," Potter said as the came back toward him.

"Yes, alright," she said indignantly, "But if Ron..."

"I'll keep him under control - that's _my_ promise."

Draco looked at Hermione nervously, wondering exactly what she had just agreed to.

"I'll just leave you two to talk things over, then," Potter said grimly, before disappearing with Kreacher.

"You should probably sit down," she said matter-of-factly, walking over to the couch.

He did so with a growing uneasiness. Before he could react, she curled herself into his lap and buried her face in his neck. She huffed after a moment of his unresponsiveness before pulling his arms around her like a blanket.

He still sat stiffly beneath her.

"I'm going to need more explanation than you're providing at the moment," he ventured cautiously.

"He's made me promise that we won't tell anyone until we all get out of here - he seems to think once I'm out of this situation, I'll stop caring about you and I'll go back to liking Ron somehow," she sighed wearily.

Draco smirked unconsciously and was immediately glad her vision was tucked securely away from his face. He had never had any intention of _saying_ anything. _Still_, he scolded himself mentally, _I can stick to Hermione's play-it-by-ear agreement - if Potter keeps the Weasel away from her, there's no need for any drastic measures._

"I won't, you know..." she said. Before he could remember what she wouldn't do, he felt her lips caressing the sensitive skin just beneath his earlobe. He was too caught off guard to hide the arousal that immediately sprung out of that moment. He gauged her reaction carefully, but either she didn't notice or she didn't mind because her lips were still there, and now he was straining all the more against her because he could feel her tongue tracing... tasting him. His hand had found hers in an instant and pulled her away from her attentions.

"That is incredibly dangerous," he said, panting.

She blushed becomingly as she looked down at his reason for embarrassment before rising from the couch.

"We should be getting back," she said, trying to hide a smile.

"Right," he said in a flat voice. "You just go on ahead."

She turned to him once more, leaning down to kiss him sweetly before disappearing with Kreacher.

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**Thank you much for reading - please do review, as it makes my day much brighter. The next chapter is in the works, but there are a ton of details coming out in it, so it will take some time to finish up and polish. Give me about a week - two at most.**


	14. Misery Means Well

**A/N: Thank you to all who have offered their condolences, and to all who have been so kind as to review! I appreciate all the kind thoughts coming my way. I will warn you now that I won't be posting another update until after Thanksgiving as I will be out of town.**

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**Chapter 14**

**Misery Means Well**

It had been three weeks since the first attacks. Three weeks of new understandings between lifelong enemies. Three weeks of progress on a fragile wooden Cabinet. Three weeks of fear as they heard the creatures making more thorough searches of Hogwarts.

It had been one week since Potter had extracted a promise of discretion from Hermione. One long week of watching Potter's clumsy matchmaking between her and the red head… of Weasley's clumsy apologies… of Hermione's excruciating forgiveness. She had told the Weasel quite firmly that she could only ever be his friend – that she didn't feel _that way_ about him. Weasley, for his part, was all smiles and friendliness.

Draco was easily able to convince himself that the Golden Trio's reunion didn't bother him. Because really, it didn't. They had all been friends for seven years.

When Potter began leaving the two of them alone to get _reacquainted_… well, whatever. It didn't change the way she felt. Why should he care? After all, Weasley had only hugged her… and he only had his hand on the small of her back as she walked…and what was a friendly arm around her shoulders to him? It's not as though she was kissing him. Except there on the cheek before apparating to one of the Common Rooms… but she had kissed Potter on the cheek too, so it was clearly just a friendly goodbye… The point was, he had no reason to be jealous. No fucking reason to cringe every time the Weasel so much as tapped her on the shoulder. No reason to get her in a huff about _trust_ when this was how friends _acted_.

He might have been able to handle Weasley's _friendliness _better, only Hermione hadn't been back to the Vanishing Cabinet since Potter had first gotten that promise out of her. The safe hours of daylight were short, and had been filled with the necessity of coordinating with the other survivors, and of checking in on Fleur's recovery, and of restocking the food and water supplies in the Common Rooms, and of testing the apparition limits of any house elves who were willing (which inevitably resulted in all five of the willing elves' noses being squished against walls throughout the castle).

It was the Harry Fucking Potter show this week, with every activity imaginable on the schedule – except repairing the Vanishing Cabinet. He had heard him assuring Hermione over and over again that she was the best to do this or that – that her expertise was more urgently needed in comforting Fleur than in going with Draco, who, he added, had already fixed one Vanishing Cabinet without her. So Draco had gone alone every day to the dark room in the Dungeons of Hogwarts. But what-the-fuck-ever. It didn't bother him. It _didn't_.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

It had been three weeks since the first attacks. Three weeks of bickering and bonding among the kitchen survivors. Three weeks of hope resting solely on the splinters in the Slytherin Common Room. Three weeks since Hermione Granger had begun to fall for Draco Malfoy.

It had been one week since Harry had made her promise not to tell anyone. One long week of running errands… of being made to keep busy… of being thrown together with Ron much more than she had been her entire life.

She had told Ron that she wasn't in love with him – that she could only ever love him as a friend. He had taken it well, and seemed glad to be on a friendly footing with her once more. Still, she'd had to be much more cautious than she was used to. She reverted to "side-hugs" with both Ron and Harry, she restricted how close she sat to each of them, she had even tried not to smile or laugh (with Ron at least), but it was impossible in the comfortable realm of friendship for her good intentions to be completely successful. She _had_ slipped up once, routinely pecking Harry goodbye before realizing that Ron was waiting next to him with an upturned cheek. On the whole, she rather thought it could have been worse. It wasn't as though she had snogged him – it was a harmless peck on the cheek. Still she felt the inevitable guilt that the _harmless_ action brought on, and her eyes automatically fixed on Draco across the room. He didn't seem to be paying attention. He was talking in an indifferent drawl to Blaise, who was snickering.

To be completely honest, she'd felt like a bit of a stalker all week. Not in the scary, obsessive sense, but in the one-sided, unwanted attention sense. Every time she had tried to peek at him… to send a smile meant only for him… to glance at him apologetically as she set off on errands with Kreacher… Every time she had tried to get some sign from him that this week of separation was driving him just as mad as it was her, he was busy, indifferent, disconnected.

She wasn't worried that his affection had cooled, of course. He was as good an actor as any, and could play his part well. Really, really well. He was mostly with Blaise, although one small change in company had occurred that Hermione couldn't quite understand… or appreciate. Blaise had apparently made up with Lavender after she'd pulled a seat out from under Ron, and the three had begun to get friendly. Well, not the three, of course – Lavender was only there for Blaise, she was sure. And so was Draco. In any case, if he was handling this absence just fine, she saw no reason to play the clingy girlfriend or raise eyebrows by going against group plans in favor of tagging along with him. If he didn't tell the group he needed her help, it would just be embarrassing to push herself on him. That was the reason she hadn't objected to Harry setting up her blankets between his and Ron's. If he couldn't be bothered to spare a glance for her during the day, she was certain he wished to be left in peace at night.

The thing that finally overrode the insecurities was hearing Harry encourage Ron. It actually sounded as though he was coaching him to win her back. She was suddenly very disgusted by the situation she found herself in, realizing the manipulation she had been prey to all week. Ron's friendliness had been nothing more than veiled advances, which was humiliating and upsetting and more repulsing that she had thought possible. She went to Harry at once, and all but demanded to get back to work on the Vanishing Cabinet with Draco.

"I'll come with you," Harry said brightly, although it was more of a statement than a question. Clearly, he meant to disrupt any romantic turn the trip might take.

"Feel free, Potter, but I don't think your presence will change the outcome of anything," Draco said pointedly, walking up to the pair.

Potter scowled back at him, having caught the full translation: _ Only come if you want to watch me snog with her for two hours straight._

"Actually, Harry, I _would_ like you to come for a few minutes so we can go over the progress of everything," Hermione said lightly.

_What? She wants a chaperone in my presence now? Well isn't that just a kick in the face._

Potter had the indecency to look smug as Draco popped out of sight.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Draco really didn't have enough time to get his expression right. He was doing his damndest to look aloof and unconcerned, but he'd been hanging on for this. He'd been waiting for Hermione to be here alone with him. All week he'd had the irrational need to feel everything that Weasley had felt. He had wanted to give her a _friendly _hug just to see if the bastard could have read anything into it. He had never even felt the contours at the small of her back, and it made him angry that someone else had. Most of all, he had wanted her to kiss him. Not just his cheek, but his hair and his neck… his arm, just above his Mark… his lips – most especially there. Now he had only moments to stash away the anger and frustration that must have been visible in his every feature.

He was sure he'd gotten the worst of the disappointment out of his face by the time Potter showed up, and the two of them stood in silence, waiting for the only thing they had in common.

The 'pop' that signified Hermione's arrival was followed almost immediately by a shrill voice.

"Harry, I am _quite_ finished with our arrangement. I promised not to tell anyone anything and I should think that would be enough for you. It's bad enough you swore me to secrecy, but how _could_ you be encouraging Ron to try for more than friendship with me? It's sickening to think of you working against me like that, Harry – it's heartbreaking. If you fell in love with Millicent Bulstrode tomorrow, I'd hate it, but you wouldn't see me having a go at screwing it up! From now on, you will kindly leave me to my own affairs. I am perfectly capable of deciding where to sit, who to sit with, and what to do during my waking hours. And I _assure_ you that I am more than capable of arranging my own blankets!"

She had yelled most of this dialogue, and the silence that followed was profound. Her audience stared at her, momentarily shocked into speechlessness. Potter recovered first.

"Hermione, you must know I'm just trying to do what's best for you!"

Hermione still wasn't calm enough to speak in a normal tone of voice.

"No, Harry. It's clear to me now that you're doing what would be best for you! You said last week that you would help if you knew how to make this better. So tell Ron that there's no hope with me. Once you resign him to that fact, you'll be doing something that's in _my_ best interest."

"Hermione…"

"Harry, please give me some time alone now."

"Hermione, you don't know what you're saying – you could still be happy with…"

"She said _get out_," Draco spat.

Potter could see that he would get nowhere with Draco as a participant, so he turned on his heel angrily and disapparated with Kreacher.

It was only a moment before Draco recovered from the fast pace in which everything had occurred.

"That was fucking brilliant," he said, glee evident in his voice. "I could kiss you for the look on Potter's face."

He walked over to where she was standing with her arms crossed. For some reason, her glare had shifted to him.

"But I won't, apparently," he said in an agitated voice.

"Don't pretend you don't know why I'm angry," she huffed dramatically.

Draco let out an exasperated sigh before running a hand over his eyes.

"I don't pretend - Ever," he said dryly. "I _am_ curious to know why _you're_ the one who gets to be upset."

"You mean to say I've given _you_ something to fume about? I'm just _dying_ to know how that's possible considering you've ignored me this entire week!"

"Even if I'd _tried_ to ignore you, the fucking show you and Weasel were putting on was hard for _anyone_ to miss. I'll bet even Longbottom noticed that fucking _kiss_."

Gods, he was jealous? Was it that simple? The insecurities began ebbing.

"That was an accident," she said in an apologetic tone. "I tried to look at you… I tried to tell you I was sorry. But you didn't care. It felt like you didn't care all week."

Draco sat down in a defeated slump, cradling his head in his hands.

"…Hermione.." he groaned. "I was raised to never appear bothered by anything or anyone. It was necessary then, and it's second nature now. I don't know what you expect of me. I didn't look at you all week so that I wouldn't stare."

In the silence that followed, Draco rested his elbows upon his knees, and stared at the empty space in front of him. He could hear her moving closer behind him, but he didn't trust himself to move from this position.

"I missed… this," she said, sitting on the arm of the couch and placing an awkward hand upon his back.

He closed his eyes when he felt her soft fingers run across his shoulder and bicep, and it was all he could to let her set the pace. His dreams of her lately (even his waking thoughts) had been incredibly graphic, and he had to fight to contain the desire that had welled up inside him, threatening to overflow.

He knew inherently that Hermione was very likely _inexperienced_, or at least he hoped to Merlin that she was, considering the exes he knew about. Holding onto this hope gave him a better measure of control. He simply could not allow himself to give into the reckless urges that had tortured him all week. She deserved all the control he could marshal.

Still, he could feel the hesitance in her touch, and realized the doubts she was probably forming. She needed to _know_… to _feel_ the desire he had for her – just not to its full measure… yet.

Hermione watched him reach out to seat her beside him, and felt a thrill of lust as he leaned her back gently against the arm of the pitiful couch. Her eyes were bright with eagerness when she felt him press his upper body against her. One hand cradled her head, and the other rested at her waist. His lips, in a single movement, had captured her mouth in a more intimate way than she had ever experienced, and she was lost to the sensations he was creating. He broke the kiss and trailed his lips, feather-light, across her cheek and past her earlobe until he had reached the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Just his lips on that sensitive flesh had sent a shiver of pleasure through her body, but oh sweet Merlin, now his tongue was there too! Is this what he'd felt when she _playfully_ kissed _his_ neck? It was no wonder he had called the action dangerous! She was gasping for air, feeling the torrents of desire flood through her, and was startled to feel herself beginning to tremble against his strong frame.

Immediately he stopped moving. His look as he held onto her in their half-sitting, half-laying pose, was one of worry and remorse.

"I'm sorry," he whispered painfully. "I didn't mean to scare you."

She breathed heavily, trying to compose herself well enough to speak.

"I… I don't think I'm frightened," she said, looking at him softly, wonderingly. "I'm… amazed… overwhelmed… I don't know what else. Does it… I mean… does it always feel… like _this_… when…"

"No," he said, sucking in a deep breath of relief and satisfaction, as he held her in a way only he was entitled to. "Only when you… _like – really like_ someone..."

He cringed at the word choice, but settled for it, remembering that she hadn't said anything back to him after Potter had opened his mouth.

"And you… _really like_…me?" she asked, with just a hint of teasing in her voice.

"I've told you as much," he said, annoyance evident in his tone. "…and more."

The last part was muttered under his breath, but she had caught it.

"You haven't, actually," she said a bit bashfully. "Not a thing."

He looked at her cautiously, wondering what she was playing at.

"You certainly did seem to give _Harry_ the idea that you… really like me, but I do hate to believe anything but direct information."

"I think that's a little unfair," he said guardedly. "Especially considering that you haven't told me you like me _at all_."

"Oh, alright, then. I don't know how or why, but I _do _like you, if you _must_ know."

"Why so timid, Granger?" he asked in a silky voice. "After all, if I can make you tremble…"

He let his lips graze along her neck once more, and was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath.

"…You'll have to concede that you do, in fact, _really _like me."

He spoke in a serious tone, but he was holding back a smile, and there was a glint of mischief in his silver eyes. She reached up to touch a strand of his hair, and was interrupted by him bending over her to claim her lips once more. This time the kiss was at once passionate and tender, and she knew it was the feeling behind it that made up her mind.

"I do," she said softly once the kiss ended. "I… I think I might love you."

This time, she could feel him smiling as he claimed her lips with his own, and she couldn't help but smile too, as their kiss deepened.

He pulled away after a moment with a serious air.

"Potter was telling the truth. I _do_ love you, too."

He watched a smile spread across her face before leaning away from her, his eyebrows knit together in contemplation.

"Now what shall we do about the others? I can't take another week of Weasley trying for you with Potter's help."

"Well that depends. What progress have you made? The Cabinet must be close to functioning by now," she said thoughtfully.

"Very close. A few more days should get us out of here."

"We'll need to have a talk with the others about every possible outcome of us using it. For starters, we'll need a volunteer to see where the other Cabinet comes out. Then there's you and Blaise to think about. We'll have to get your names cleared straight away."

"Hermione, it'd be better to have a plan for me and Zabini to clear _you_. I don't think that Cabinet will come out anywhere close to _your _reinforcements."

That possibility set a somber tone as they worked together for the remainder of the day.

* * *

**Thank you, as always, for reading. Please review. Happy Thanksgiving!**


	15. Crossing Lines

**A/N: Thank you all for reading. I hope your Thanksgiving was as peaceful as mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 15**

**Crossing Lines**

Draco awoke to an angry kick at the bottom of his foot.

"Fuck off, Potter," he whispered. "Five more minutes."

They were in the dark of the kitchens. It would be painfully obvious to everyone that this was not where he had set up his blankets the night before. He hadn't planned to fall asleep here, but it seemed having Hermione in his arms… well, it felt so...

"No," Potter whispered back bitterly. "Up. Now."

…Perfect. He knew he'd have to get up before the others saw them like this, especially Weasley, but if Potter thought he could _make_ him get up…

"Five more minutes, or I'll start snogging her 'til everyone sees."

"Get up now, or I'll tell them all you're _forcing_ yourself on her," Potter whispered back viciously.

Draco couldn't help smirking as he reluctantly pulled his arms away from Hermione.

"I always knew you were sorted wrong," he whispered, standing up and brushing himself off. A cursory glance around the dark room still showed everyone asleep. "Should've been a Slytherin."

"Yes, because _that's_ been working _so _well for you, Malfoy," Potter replied acidly.

Draco glared daggers at Potter before stomping sullenly to _his_ stool at one of the counters. Unfortunately, he could hear Potter following him, and knew the prat hadn't finished. Draco watched warily as he cast a silencing charm.

"It'll be the same for her, you know," Potter said once the charm was in place. "The moment anyone knows she's associated with you, she'll be _tainted._"

"You know, you're more tactful than I ever gave you credit for, Potter. I mean, insulting me for something I had no control over… really, very tasteful of you."

"You had a choice, you arse. You could have _chosen_ not to be a killer!"

"I'm no killer," Draco replied fiercely. "Or don't you remember the choice I made _not_ to kill Dumbledore?"

"That wasn't a choice – that was an anxiety attack, which is just another _great_ reason you should be with Hermione," Potter continued sarcastically. "Could you even protect her, or are you too much of a coward?"

"I would watch what you say if I were you, Potter."

These words were so full of malice and unguarded rage that Harry knew he had found the line and crossed it. He didn't care.

"What will it be like once you're out of here? You can't go to _your_ people with a muggle-born – you know they'd kill her, and probably you too."

"This is none of your fucking business."

Harry watched as Malfoy's fists clenched and shoulders squared, but this was too important not to confront the bastard with.

"And what is our side supposed to do with _you_? Your rescue of her and Ginny was nothing but self-serving, and there's no evidence to even suggest that…. Hit me if you want, Malfoy, and get it over with, but I'm not stopping until I've got some answers, and you'll have to explain to Hermione why I've got a black eye for asking you legitimate questions…."

He watched as Draco's eyes turned from murderous back to angry.

"Are you willing to live your entire life wondering if your side is going to attack you?"

"What fucking choice do I have? With or without her, they'd have the same motivation to come after me."

"And you'd condemn her to that life too?"

"It's _her_ choice, but you know what Potter? I'm willing to bet she'd rather spend her life looking over her shoulder for a threat than looking over her shoulder at Weasley."

"Like you say, it's _her_ choice."

The way Potter said it made it sound like he'd taken it on as a personal challenge.

"Gods, Potter, fuck off already! You think _you_ wouldn't kill any bastard that tried to get your girl together with someone else? Don't fucking tempt me!"

"If she loves you, you've got nothing to worry about, right?" Potter looked ghastly with a smirk – he did it all wrong – he was entirely _too_ smug. "Besides, you said it yourself. _You're no killer_."

With that, Potter stepped out of the enclosure of the silencing charm, leaving Draco fuming within.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Harry had silently cleared away the extra set of blankets from Hermione's side, but he felt a pang of guilt (a very small, very easily forgotten pang of guilt) as he beheld her sleeping face. It was warm, and glowing with happiness. A small smile graced her lips, and Harry couldn't remember the last time he had seen her so…

It didn't matter what she was now. She could be exactly this way with anyone… anyone but Draco Malfoy. He was sure that the right circumstances were all that were necessary for a change of heart. Still that face… but there was nothing he could do, short of waking her, to make it go away, so he went away to _his_ stool at the kitchen counter, waiting for everyone else to wake up.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Hermione had never experienced anything like this. In a small, very far-away section of her mind, she knew she was dreaming, but it all felt so real. She was in a lush four-poster bed with light flickering around her. She had meant to see if it was firelight or candelight, but none of the surroundings mattered once she saw _him_. Pale blond hair streaked across his face as his gaze met hers, and she couldn't look away – she could only blush as those silver eyes swept across her face. She watched his eyebrows knit together before he reached out and pulled her snugly into his arms. She could feel more than hear the sigh of relief as he drew her closer against his chest. She could almost _feel_ his scent, as strong and masculine as his body. They lay together, each reveling in the warmth and comfort of the other. She felt so… safe – so beautiful and so wanted. It was… perfect.

And it was over all too soon as she heard the commotion around her that meant it was time to get up. She stretched where she lay, arching her back and letting her eyes open slowly. She was immediately aware of Ron staring at her, and of Draco glaring at him. This would never do. Getting up, she walked past Ron and looked disdainfully at _her_ stool, before walking to the stool across the counter from Draco.

"Good morning to you too," Ron said moodily, pulling up a seat next to her. He moved to put his arm across her shoulders in a friendly side hug.

"Ugh," she said with annoyance, getting up from her seat and turned to walk around the long counter to Draco's side. "I don't want to sit next to you – I don't want to talk to you – I certainly don't want you to touch me."

"What's gotten into _you_?" he asked crabbily. "I thought we were friends!"

This stopped her in her tracks and she whipped around to face him.

"Go talk to Harry if you think I'm acting…. _inappropriately_."

She made sure the last word carried all the knowledge and connotation of the past week and was gratified when she saw Ron's ears turn red in understanding.

"I'm glad you see why you have _no right_ to talk to me about being _friends_."

"Hermione… I just… it's just that…"

"I told you, Ron – go talk to Harry – because I really can't deal with this so early in the morning."

She turned away and began her slow progress around the counter once more.

"You said you loved me as a friend…" Ron tried hopefully.

She laughed incredulously at the feeble statement, and turned to face him again.

"Believe me I wouldn't have if I thought my words would be twisted to suit your purposes."

Now Ron was angry – she could see it.

"It was a joke, me dumping you," he said at last, and she could see the pride it cost him. "You know I don't mean things like that!"

"Shame you can't laugh it off now," she replied dryly.

He didn't do well in early-morning arguments. He got frustrated too easily. She was facing him with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed the way she knew he hated.

"Are you serious? You really want to end everything between us?"

But his statement wasn't filled with pleading or reconciliation the way it probably should have been – it was full of sarcasm and smug humor at the very idea of that being her wish.

"You should know by now, Ron, that I _mean_ the things I say."

That was the last bit of fuel on the fire. She could see the steam rising now, and knew a full outburst would be next.

"You know what? Fine!" he said loudly. His face was red, and his anger was visible in his every feature. "Once we get out of here, you'll see what it's like without anyone. You hear me? You'd end up all alone! So go ahead, but you'll be back, Hermione! You'll come _crawling_ back!"

That… was the _wrong_ thing to say. Even Ginny and Lavender had gasped at the remark, and Harry had clapped a hand to his forehead in frustration.

Before anyone could blink, Ron had been lifted up by one ankle and was dangling upside down in midair. Hermione marched up to him with her wand holding him in place.

"Right," she said horsely. "I would come _crawling_ back to you because no one else would have me – yes? Because I'm just Hermione Granger – nerd-bird, know-it-all, annoying and ugly. That's what I am to you. It's how I felt when was with you. And you want to know something Ronald Weasley? I would rather end up alone than spend my life feeling like that! I'd rather end up alone than with you!"

She lowered him abruptly to the ground.

"I won't be back. I'll never be yours again!"

She turned her back on him and walked around the long counter, as everyone stared, open-mouthed. She sat herself two stools away from Draco, where the awkward silence continued before Lavender came over to join her, looking poisonously at Ron. Ginny had joined them in another moment. Lavender praised Hermione for 'coming to her senses,' while Ginny apologized for the embarrassment that was her brother. Hermione heard very little of what they were saying, completely preoccupied with the smile she had seen on Draco's down-turned face as she seated herself. It was the only reaction that mattered to her. Well… that wasn't true.

Looking up meekly, she sought out Harry. She was slightly relieved to see his face contorted with angry frustration as he berated Ron. She was even more relieved when she saw Ron ask for help to reconcile with her, and perceived Harry's shaking head and resolute face. Ron looked devastated.

Harry looked over to where she was sitting, but his eyes must have locked with Ginny's, not hers, because the next moment he sighed wearily and trudged reluctantly over to sit across from them.

Gazing up hard at her, he spoke in a low tone.

"Don't think this means that I approve of _anything_," he said.

"Harry!" Ginny chided. "She's your best friend – you should support her decision!"

Ginny had clearly misunderstood Harry's words, but Hermione had to hold back a smile when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco give him a look that very obviously agreed with the statement. She was even more tempted when she saw a muscle in Harry's jaw move, and knew he couldn't glare back as he had meant to because Ginny would be furious with the response.

"Don't worry, Gin," he said. "I support her completely. I'll even help her find a new boyfriend _everyone likes_."

It was Hermione's turn to glare.

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**Please review! **


	16. No Girls Allowed

**Chapter 16**

**No Girls Allowed  
**

It happened on a Thursday. They had expected it eventually, of course, but were unprepared nonetheless. They had suddenly heard scuffling movements just outside the corridor that led to the kitchens. The survivors had heard _them_ getting close to their little hallway before, of course… but they had always swept past during their searches – maybe this would be another of those fortunate escapes.

The Cabinet, thankfully, had been 'finished' for a few days, but the group had yet to use it because they lacked a solid plan to see where it led, or if it even worked. There had been no volunteers this time around, knowing how many things could go wrong.

They listened breathlessly to the probing movements of the Creatures, knowing how easily they could be trapped. They waited. Silent. Terrified.

_CRACK_

It was the sound of wood splintering against hooves and horns. They were still quite some distance from the sound – the kitchens were concealed behind one of the last doors in this hallway. But the outcome was suddenly inevitable. Someone would have to try the Cabinet, regardless of the consequences, or they would all die.

Within seconds, plans began to fly about the room, each one more far-flung than the next. Harry told Kreacher to be ready to apparate them at a moment's notice. He added, much more quietly, that the elf was to take commands from the others in the room, knowing that if it came to a fight, he might be busy, or worse. Boot shouted out something about drawing straws, which everyone latched onto quickly.

"Yes, of course!" said Ginny, as she began a frantic search of the kitchens for straws or string or anything else they could draw from.

Potter's face changed immediately.

"Sorry, Gin," he said darkly. "Terry just meant for the men in the group to draw, didn't you?"

Boot quailed a bit at the threatening look he was receiving.

"'Course," he said at once.

Even Longbottom nodded his head vigorously, having seen Potter's face.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," she replied heatedly, her face flushed with resentment. "Everyone here is _more_ than capable of taking care of themselves."

Hermione moved to stand beside Ginny, arms crossed. Draco could see the tops of nine popsicle sticks clutched in one of her hands.

"Sorry," Potter replied in a voice that was deathly quiet, "No girls allowed."

Draco moved to stand behind Potter with _his_ arms crossed as he narrowed his eyes at Hermione. Weasley had stood up, too.

"Yeah, no girls allowed," he echoed weakly, still looking at Hermione appraisingly.

"Guess you're out of the draw then Weasel," Draco muttered tauntingly in a tone only he could hear.

Weasley rounded on Draco as Ginny and Hermione looked over at Lavender, silently willing her to join the cause.

"Don't look at _me_," she said in a panicky voice. "_I'm _not going first."

_CRACK_

The group was jolted into silence. _They_ were working their way down the hall, methodically, door by door.

"Fine, no drawing for us," Hermione said. Her voice had the smallest hint of trembling, but she had taken a defiant step forward. "We _volunteer_."

Ginny's eyes lit up with determination and her mouth pressed into a grim line as she nodded once in agreement.

"We haven't got the fucking time for this, Granger," Draco said angrily. "You _know_ where I think the other one is! If they get their hands on you…"

"I don't care who or what you think is waiting for us, Draco," she said, cutting him off. "We can defend ourselves."

"Not if you're outnumbered!" he countered heatedly.

"And what if we are?" her eyes were flashing. "Aside from Harry, we've got to be the best two bargaining chips they _could_ get their hands on – they wouldn't dare hurt…"

Draco closed the distance between them in two strides, an action that had made her start unintentionally. She had never before realized how tall he was until he was standing there, an angry inch away from her, looking down piercingly into her eyes. Only it didn't seem like anger when he was this close – it seemed like fear.

"If there are Death Eaters on the other side of that Cabinet, or even supporters…" Draco took a deep breath to bring his temper into check. "They aren't _looking_ for bargaining chips, Love – they're looking for revenge. And if they _got their hands_ on Harry Potter's mudblood friend and his future wife, let me assure you they would take vengeance to its fullest measure – you'd be damaged in every possible way. They would torture you… rape you… tear you apart slowly and then heal your wounds."

Draco's breathing was uneven and he looked haunted by what he was saying. He looked ill. It affected Hermione more than she could say – she felt defeated at once, and not at all sorry for it.

"Ask me if I'm lying, Hermione… ask me if I've seen them do it," he sounded as though the air had been crushed from his lungs. "I won't let it happen… not to you."

She reached up to touch a loose strand of his hair, but Draco caught her hand and pulled her into him. His eyes searched her face for a moment before he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her desperately.

The others were frozen in place. Even Weasley stood with his mouth agape, watching the scene unfold before him.

_CRACK_

The time to act was now.

Harry took Ginny into his arms, hoping to melt her resolve, but she was stiff in his embrace, and seemed wholly unmoved by Malfoy's distressing account.

"Ginny," he said seriously. "I won't let you go. I can't. I'm sorry."

The group fell into silent agreement for a single moment before the stillness was broken by violent scuffling. Weasley had snapped out of his horrified shock and rammed into Draco, full force, taking them both to the floor.

Draco was more than willing to fight Weasley after all that bastard had put him through this month, but this was _not_ the time for it. The Creatures _would_ try the door to the kitchens the same as they were trying the others.

Potter and the rest of the males in the group rushed to pull the two apart.

"Ron, we don't have time for this," Potter said, his anger quickly turning to dread.

"You bastard! Stay away from her!" Weasley snarled as he continued to lunge at Draco despite the hands trying to hold him back.

And Draco couldn't resist. He had been waiting to rub Weasley's face in this for so long.

"Poor bloody fool," Draco mocked. "She's had a whole fucking month to find a better man than you – did you think she wouldn't?"

"She's _mine_!"

"She's been _mine_ since you gave her up," his voice was quivering on the edge of control.

A few people gasped.

"God damn it, Malfoy. Not _now_," Potter muttered furiously.

"You're lying, Malfoy," Weasley said through clenched teeth. "She hates you!"

"She loves me," Draco spat. "What's the matter, _Weasley_? Didn't she ever tell _you_ that?"

"You shut your bloody mouth!" Ron yelled.

"She didn't?" he taunted, his lips curving into a cruel smile. "Not once?"

"This is not the time, Malfoy!" Potter said heatedly, but no one heard him.

In fact, no one heard a faint 'pop' above the scuffle, either.

"Fuck you, Malfoy!" Ron screamed in a wounded voice. Draco could hear the defeat in his tone, but he had waited so long for this. He needed it to hurt as much as he had.

"She tells me every time I kiss her…" he said mercilessly.

"That's enough, Malfoy!" Potter shouted. "We've got to get out of here."

_CRACK_

As though to punctuate his point, they heard the Creatures break open one of the few remaining doors that separated them.

_Everyone_ heard the second 'pop' as Kreacher returned alone.


	17. The Way In

A/N: Thank you, as always, for reading and for the kind and encouraging reviews! This is a short chapter, but I knew you'd rather have a short chapter than a long-unanswered cliffhanger.

* * *

**Chapter 17  
The Way In  
**

Draco's panicked gazed flew to Kreacher for an instant before searching desperately for Hermione. He was startled to find her close by, her own shocked face fixed on the wrinkled house elf. He blinked several times, as though clearing his vision, reassuring himself that she was still there.

"Fuck!" Potter shouted suddenly. His voice was a mixture of fury and terror. He charged toward Kreacher and pulled him up off the floor desperately.

"Take me to the Cabinet, NOW!"

In the next instant, he and the house elf had vanished.

"Ginny!" Hermione whispered sounding devastated as full realization swept over her.

"Kreacher!" Draco shouted into the silence.

The house elf appeared in front of him. He turned toward Hermione.

"Don't follow us through," he said firmly. His eyes lingered on her face a moment longer, knowing how many different things could await him if, indeed, he was alive to meet anything at all. She had taken an unconscious step forward, but he forced himself to turn away from her.

"Kreacher, take me to the Slytherin Common Room and then bring the others."

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

It was a worse feeling than Harry could have imagined. He had arrived in the empty Slytherin Common Room, and knew she had already used the Cabinet. He knew what could happen if it wasn't working properly. He knew what would happen if the other Cabinet was broken. He knew what lay waiting for her if the Cabinet was where Malfoy remembered. He cursed loudly as angry tears pricked at his eyes, and charged toward the Cabinet, wand drawn, hoping against everything that the woman he loved was alive.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

Draco had arrived in the Slytherin Common Room in time to see the doors of the Cabinet swing shut and knew that Potter had just vanished within. He steeled himself as he looked at the dark wooden doors, fighting against the thought of the instant death that could lie there. But there was nothing for it. He broke out into a run, trying to distance himself from the fear instead, and flung himself headlong into the darkness and what lay beyond.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Draco, in his hurry through the Cabinet, had run headlong into Potter at the other side. When he recovered from the impact and had a moment to look around him, he froze instantly. He wasn't in Borgin and Burkes as he had expected. He was home.

A new set of fears confronted him. Had _all_ the Death Eaters gone with Voldmort to Hogwarts? Was this just another trap laid by Voldemort and his followers? Were the _Creatures_ hunting Ginny Weasley?

Potter was staring at Draco. He, too, had recognized this place, and seemed to be waiting to be told what direction to go. Draco's mind worked quickly.

"Ravvi!" he whispered into the silence.

A tattered and trembling house elf appeared before him with a 'pop.'

"Oh, Master Draco!" she half squeaked, half whispered. "There is intruders in the house, Master Draco!"

His heart sank.

"How many?" he demanded.

"Two, sir. A man and a girl."

The next moment he heard a piercing scream of pain that had Potter rushing for the door in front of him.

"_RAVVI, LOCK THE MAN IN THE DUNGEONS AND BRING THE GIRL BACK HERE, NOW!"_

Potter stopped in his tracks, turning frantically to watch the elf disappear before wheeling on Draco.

"If she's hurt," he rasped, but his voice was agonized, not threatening. "If that man's one of yours…"

Draco didn't respond. His eyes were fixed firmly on the spot his family's elf had vanished.

He was rewarded several moments later when Ravvi returned with her arms thrown over the limp body of Ginny Weasley. Potter gave an anguished cry before gathering her in his arms gingerly. All of her hair was gone and parts of her scalp and neck were bleeding where she had been made to claw at herself with her own fingernails. Draco shuddered as guilty relief surged through him that he was not kneeling on the floor clutching an unconscious Hermione in his arms.

"Ravvi has the Manor been attacked by animals?"

"Yes, Master Draco, but Ravvi makes it safe," she said in her high pitched voice, gesturing to the single window in the room that was covered over by one of the several closet doors in the house.

"Who did this to her?" Potter ground out, looking icily at the elf.

Ravvi looked to Draco, who nodded, before answering.

"Ravvi sees him twice before in this house, but she doesn't know his name. He is going with…. with… he is going with…"

"The Dark Lord?" Draco said, easing the elf's discomfort.

"Yes, Master Draco. He is going with _him_ to Hogwart's. He says this man is helpful to him with information. He says he rewards this man to take anyone at the school."

Potter's jaw clenched, and Draco knew his mind, too, had jumped to Fleur Weasley.

"How did he get back here?" Draco demanded.

"He comes as a bird, sir," Ravvi replied.

"He comes… what?"

"He comes as a bird, sir," Ravvi repeated, simply. Seeing her Master's confused gaze, she tried to continued on more descriptively. "A very _large_ bird, sir."

"He got into the Manor as a bird," Draco repeated dumbly, not understanding the poor elf's attempt.

"No, Master Draco, sir! Ravvi doesn't let him in as a bird! She thinks he is one of the animals attacking again, but he knocks on the door as a man."

"He's… an Animagus?" Potter asked through clenched teeth, and the pieces fell together in Draco's mind. How else could he have made the journey from Hogwarts to Wiltshire without being harmed?

"A bird," she said. And then chancing another look at her Master, continued expressively. "A _large_ bird, sir."


	18. Breaking Draco

**Chapter 18  
Breaking Draco**

Ginny Weasley didn't dare move or open her eyes. He must be close – she could hear someone breathing very close to her. Mentally checking over her body, she almost sobbed in relief that her clothing seemed intact. He hadn't defiled her. Not yet. But she could feel her soft surroundings and knew she was in a bed. She surely didn't have long.

She listened intently for a full minute before deciding that whoever was beside her was breathing too deeply to be awake. Slowly – carefully – she opened her eyelids a fraction, but was aggravated to find that she couldn't see anything from her position on the bed. Before she could decide on her next move, she heard him take a deep, waking breath and felt him move beside her. She was terrified – frozen in place. It was his touch that kick started her self-defense instincts. He had strewn an arm across her body, and she knew this was her best and only chance to act. She threw her elbow sideways as hard as she could and heard a satisfying _crack_. There was a loud cry of shock and pain, but she didn't wait to see the damage she had done. She had bolted away from him in an instant and vaulted from the foot of the bed. She had her hand on the handle…

"Giddy," he said, holding his broken and bloody nose, "It'd oh kay – you're stafe."

Looking back in shock, Ginny saw Harry looking at her through pained but very relieved features. The next moment saw Bill burst through the door, wand drawn.

"I heard… Harry! Who attacked you?" he demanded. "Where'd they go?"

"It was… I didn't mean to," Ginny said softly. "I…"

She looked from Bill to Harry slowly before breaking down into tears.

"I'm… sorry," she sobbed. "I thought I could duel anyone I met. He stunned me from behind and… he took my wand… and he… he was trying… he hurt Fleur too. He was trying to…"

Harry was at her side in a moment, holding her in one arm while gesturing for Bill to do something about his nose. As soon as he could speak properly, he murmured what he hoped were comforting words while rocking her gently in his arms.

"You're safe, love... I'm here... sshhhh… it'll be alright… it'll be alright… all that matters is you're safe..."

Back and forth - her head on his shoulder – they swayed until her breathing evened out. At last, Ginny gazed softly up at Harry, her eyes asking once more for forgiveness. Bill would check on his sister later. This moment was theirs, and he had been waiting to "check in" on the bird demon in the dungeons since they had arrived in the Manor.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

Hermione had just bathed with soap and water instead of spells for the first time in nearly a month. She was wearing a soft linen night shift with a matching robe. Her clothes had been cleaned and mended by the elves and set out for her use tomorrow, and she had a warm, soft bed to sleep in instead of tattered blankets on a cold stone floor. She had all the comforts she could ask for, but she felt they were wasted on her in her current state.

She had waited in the Slytherin Common Room staring at the dark wooden doors in agony for nearly an hour. She had convinced herself several times over that if Draco, Harry or Ginny were still alive, they would have come back already. No one had spoken. No one had dared to say aloud what hung heavily in the silence.

When she had seen Draco emerge from the Cabinet unharmed, her legs had buckled beneath her and she had stayed kneeling on the floor as he addressed them all. The other Cabinet, he had told them, was at Malfoy Manor. He had assured them that the place had been searched and was completely safe. The Creatures' attacks on the Manor, it seemed, had become increasingly fewer since the first day. He had also told the group that there were beds and food in plenty at the Manor and proposed moving all the survivors there at once. Despite the initial reactions that had followed his statements, his proposal was eventually, if grudgingly, agreed upon. Kreacher had been dispatched to gather the others at the Cabinet and one by one, they had found themselves in the former headquarters of Lord Voldemort.

Although no one was thrilled by the situation, Draco seemed the most grim of them all. He hadn't spoken to Hemione since they had come back through the Cabinet. He wouldn't even look in her direction. The only people he had spoken to were Bill and Harry. As the survivors were shown to bedrooms by an anxious-to-please Ravvi, she had taken her chances, walking up beside him and taking his hand. He didn't shrug out of her grasp, but he might as well have. He let his hand hang limply in hers, and spoke to her without meeting her eyes.

"I'm sure Ravvi will show you to a room," he had said, hollowly.

She was desperate for eye contact, but when she pulled him to face her, she found that his eyes were as empty as his voice had been.

"What is it?" she asked cautiously.

"I need some time, Granger," he said gruffly. _Alone_ hung unspoken in the air.

She had pulled her hand away miserably, but forced herself not to betray any emotion as she joined the others at the top of the stairs. No – none of the comforts in the world mattered to her right now.

And now it was very late – it must be. She had waited as long as she dared before tip-toeing out into the dark hallway. She told herself she only needed to see him sleeping. That would ease her mind – she _would not_ stay. She _would not_ invite herself into a situation where she was so clearly unwanted. It was petty – so incredibly foolish, but maybe in his sleep, he would somehow betray a desire for her. If she could just read it in his expression – see him with his arm thrown over a pillow that she could imagine was replacing her… she was sure she could sleep.

She had never been afraid of the dark, but she could imagine a Death Eater in every corner – a Creature in every shadow as she passed. Luckily, there were still _some_ strips of light streaming from beneath the doors as she passed them. Looking at the long row of doors before her, though, she became anxious. She didn't know which was his. With wavering determination, she continued on. It seemed to be getting darker – either these rooms were empty or the survivors within were already asleep. In the oppressive stillness, she felt that she was beginning to lose her nerve. She couldn't very well knock on every door in the hallway calling his name… she would just have to keep going forward. She could see a strip of light up the hall a short distance, and nearing the staircase, she spotted it – a set of double doors – _of course he'd have a larger room_. She could see that one of the doors was slightly ajar, and tip-toed as close as she dared. Peering in, she could see that Draco was still awake, sitting on the edge of a large bed.

"Ravvi," she heard him say in a low voice. "Can you hear your masters call you even if you can't reach them?"

"Yes, Master Draco," she replied sadly.

"Did… did anyone call you? You know… recently?" his voice was anxious, full of hope and dread.

"Master Lucius called for Ravvi the day of the animals, sir. Ravvi could not go to him… Ravvi has punished herself most severely, sir."

"And… and since then?" his voice was anguished now.

She could hear the little elf sniff.

"Ravvi thinks she belongs only to Master Draco now," she said sorrowfully.

She could see Draco swallow hard, blinking back the inevitable tears. He nodded his head three times, trying to take deep breaths.

"Why is the Vanishing Cabinet here, Ravvi?"

"Mistress has it brought once you goes to school, Master Draco. She thinks you might need it, sir."

Something inside of Draco was breaking – his mother's death was painful – his mother's love was more than he could bear.

"She wanted to give me a way home," his voice cracked.

Hermione watched him sadly – a strong man bent over in pain, fighting for control of the storm within. She watched him achingly, as the battle was lost and tears streamed unchecked across his beautiful face. He pressed his fists against his brow and clenched his teeth as silent sobs wracked his body… And she watched him, heartbroken.

She knew he wouldn't accept her comfort if she went to him now – he couldn't.

She could only leave him to his suffering alone – as he had asked her. She would be everything he needed in the morning.

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Thank you to everyone who reviews this story! You are my motivation to keep writing.


	19. Demons and Angels

**Chapter 19**

**Demons and Angels**

There was no question that Draco's demons had found him. The irony was not lost on him. He had been made his weakest, his most vulnerable, in his own home. His sleep that night had not been restful. His mind had roamed into every room, every corridor throughout the house, and found blood there. When he awoke in a cold sweat the next morning, he imagined he could still smell it. Perhaps his past was tainted enough that the smell was coming from him – that sickening metallic smell of blood – seeping from every pore in his body. He exhaled deeply in disgust, trying to shake himself from his nightmare, and readied himself for the day ahead.

The house elves, more than energetic after a month of confinement, had prepared an enormous feast, and most of the survivors ate heartily. Draco found he could stomach no more than dry toast. He was surprised Hermione had respected his desire for breathing room all morning – he rather thought she would have come to him at some point. If she _had_ come, he felt sure he would have turned from her. He couldn't be anything to her right now – he had made himself dead inside to escape the horror of this place.

The morning passed rather quietly. There had been some stilted conversation and planning over brunch, but with sunlight pouring through small openings in the covered windows, the survivors had felt confident enough to explore the Manor individually, taking some much-needed time away from each other.

The elves had spared no effort in cleaning the Manor and making it feel _homey_, but no matter how pleasant they could make it _look_, Draco could still _feel_ all that had happened here. He wandered from room to room just as he had in his dream, and it became even more of a waking nightmare as he recalled the death and darkness that each one held.

By dinner, the others had regained some of their former cheer, and were warmed further by half a dozen butterbeers shared between them. Draco had not touched his food. In this light, with the fire blazing…. in this exact seat…. he had stared, shocked and horrified as Charity Burbage revolved above them. He had watched, unable to move, as she was tortured beyond any possible gain and then killed. Pushing his chair back from the table, he tried to steady himself.

_Gods – was there nowhere in this house that had not seen blood?_ He shook his head and retreated to his room, but upon entering, he remembered that this room held another kind of pain. He sunk to his knees, picturing his mother at his bedside telling him goodbye. And suddenly it was too much. The entire house was closing in upon him. He needed to get out.

He almost sprinted down the stairs, stopping at the foot to catch his breath – his left lung still hurt tremendously from his injury. Walking as quickly as he could manage without panting, he made it to the entry foyer. He had almost made it to the main door before he saw Hermione following him. _Just let her try to stop me_, he thought angrily. But she didn't. She just followed him silently as he marched up to the door and wrenched it open. Ten paces out he began to run again as fast as he could into the fading sunlight. After only a minute, his left lung felt close to exploding, and it made him angrier that he couldn't distance himself any further from his past. Before he could move again, it had consumed him. He was reliving every horrible event… every shame-filled memory… over and over in his mind… and he couldn't make it stop.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Hermione knew better than to try to stop him. She only hoped his strength gave out before the sunlight did. She had seen no Creatures, yet, but she still felt vulnerable – it was the first time she had been outside since the Final Battle. She chuckled bitterly. _Final Battle, indeed._ There he was just ahead, hunched over on the ground, clutching at his chest. _The collapsed lung,_ she remembered as she hurried over and knelt beside him.

"Are you alright?" She had her wand at the ready, but he wouldn't answer her. He wouldn't even look at her. She caught a glimpse of his haunted face. His eyes stared emptily out before him, and he seemed to be locked away in some far corner of his mind. She felt as though she was watching him slowly self-destruct, and was powerless to help. She tried again.

"Where is it hurting?"

_Gods, what a question to ask! Everywhere - he's hurting everywhere… Everything about this place… _

She put her wand away, knowing it couldn't ease the pain he was feeling, but what could? What could bring him out of whatever dark place he was?

In desperation, she leaned forward and let her lips brush against his. She had only meant to try a brief kiss – some form of physical contact to bring him back to her – but there had been so much between their last kiss and this one that she found herself unable to pull away. She let her lips linger and caress his softly. She reveled in the feel of his breath on her face. She had to find a way to get through to him… she _needed_ him.

And that single thought reminded her… she brought her lips to his once more, feathering soft kisses upon them.

"I don't know how…." She whispered between kisses.

"…_Draco_..." she breathed, longingly. "I don't know how, but I _need_ this…."

She let her mouth cover his again, and felt him take a deep breath. _It was working_. She had managed to shift his focus to a different part of his mind – the best memory she could think of. She tried to remember more of his wonderful words to her.

"Run with me… you can run with me as far away as you need…" she continued, placing kisses along his jaw.

"You could love me…"

When her lips found his again, he was kissing her back.

"Far away from here, with no one to judge us…"

But she didn't get further. One of his arms was around her waist and the other cradled her head as he laid her down upon the earth. She pulled at the fabric of his shirt as he tumbled down on top of her and his lips burned against hers. Her hands tangled in his hair as his mouth trailed kisses down to her collar bone, leaving her breathless. Neither of them heard a scuffle close by. He pulled away for a moment to gaze at her. His eyes traveled down to her lips and he had come close to another searing kiss when they heard something that stopped them cold.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Fuck!"

It was Zabini.

"We fucking risk our lives to find you groping each other?! Are you out of your fucking minds?"

Looking up, Draco saw Potter in the distance doing his best to physically restrain the Weasel. He knew immediately why they had come. There was no longer any hint of _evening_ in the air – even twilight had passed them by – there was no doubt that night had fallen, and they had no way of knowing how close the Creatures still were to the Manor. Of course they would come in search of Hermione – perhaps Blaise had even come to look for _him_. Either way, the scene they found couldn't have made any sense given their surroundings, but he didn't give a damn what their questions or conclusions might be.

He jumped to his feet and saw Hermione do the same. Without saying a word to Blaise, he grabbed her hand and ran past him toward the others. _If Weasley gets in the way of me getting Hermione back inside…_ but he needn't have worried. He watched as Weasley exhaled angrily and turned to run in the direction of the Manor – it seemed that neither of them wanted any delay in getting Hermione back to safety.

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**Thank you for all the kind reviews!**


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